The wind was strong. I wanted it to rain all my pain away.
Just like the solipsistic writers, I was making the sorrow all about me.
In this moment of agony, their eyes looked at my tears. “In days of struggle to define belongingness, I have learnt that home does not have to be the place you grew up or the place where you sleep to escape the nightmares.”
Then one day, you find yourself walking away from home. You have learned not to get shocked each time someone speaks of home in a lighter tone. How do you metamorphose into a being who could comprehend the pleasantness of home?
When the feelings are utter confusion, and you see their
childhood smiling only in photographs. You ask, “Can we make homes out of people?” But strangely, they feel like home. This moment feels
like home. I look at that tiny scratch on the photograph, I touch it, and they
smile. Home for them articulates in loud voices and shattered glass pieces on
the floor. “I was an angry child who
couldn’t smile anymore at the idea of home.”
They kept that old photograph inside the book, hiding from those darkest memories
only for someone to come and ease those wounds.
I was a sad child who was returning home after getting lost in the blueness of the days.
Author - Padma SD
Photograph - Vishal Rajguru
(Submitted as part of the June Photography and Scriptwriting assignment)
Comments
Post a Comment