Dreaming of home
Moving homes is hard. Moving home from one country to another, it is even harder. But I think the hardest is to be without a home which is what my current situation is.
We reached India on 19th October, exhausted after travelling for more than 24 hours,(it is such a long long long way) bone weary, jet-lagged and wanting to run back to a comfortable place called home. Except, there was no home. The last of our belongings had been boxed and shipped, our lives neatly packed into cartons, labelled and despatched with cool crisp efficiency of an International relocation agency.
It took me more than ten days to get my body clock set to Indian Time. Was I glad to back in India? I really had no time to notice as there were and still are a million things to be done. Right now we have been put up in a company guest house and we're trying to set up things from here.
We have managed to find an excellent school for the children (they got chosen into four schools which was a pleasant surprise as many well meaning folks had warned us about relocating in the middle of an academic year and how hard it is to get admissions into a good school. The warnings were baseless as we discovered. Doors do open when you try hard enough). We are slowly setting up our home too (we finally signed the rental agreement two days back) and I hope to move into my own home next week, even though the stuff that has been shipped would arrive only by the end of November.
Thank you to all who mailed and asked me how I was doing and wishing me luck. I still haven't got around to replying to mails. I shall do so slowly.The first thing I am doing after getting a mobile Internet connection (Oh, the amount of documentation needed these days to get one, is crazy) is blogging :-) (Yeah, I could not bear to be away from my beloved blog and its readers any longer :-) )
They say that when emotion over flow poetry flows. Poems are often feelings poured into words. Just before we left UK, my nine year old daughter wrote an amazingly beautiful poem. It seems so apt , at the moment.
I am reproducing it below. (Click on the photo to enlarge it to read it in her own writing and to read her English teacher's remarks too)
Dreaming of Home
By Purvi Shenoy (Aged 9)
Once upon a time
I dreamt of living in a warm cozy cottage
Where the fire flames dance like crazy
The carpeting squidges between your toes
Where the bed is nice and bouncy
Where the garden is filled with the smell of flowers
In the kitchen, a delicious smell of my mum's cooking
In the attic, the stair case creaks and there are old toys in the corner
And the bedroom has cool crisp sheets on the bed.
My daughter's poem really tugs at my heart strings at this moment.
Right now, it seems like heaven, as I wait to move in and create a place called home.