Post # 13 - Memories I

Often times memories pop up in my mind. These days I’m thinking a lot about the Ramzans I’ve spent. Especially when I moved to Karachi for IBA and we had such a lot of fun in Ramzan at Nano’s place. Everyone used to be there. Often we had Khala’s entire family over for Iftar. That was the time when Sherbano and I were on talking terms. I don’t know what  has happened there. But that is another story.

Nano used to drink her own special 'podina paani' (mint water). She didn’t have the ‘laal sherbat’ like the rest of us. The tea used to be made in this ginormous metal tea pot and I often had the duty of making and serving the tea. The dining room used to be full of laughter and loud talking and just plain good family cheer. I miss that so much. The house is so quiet now. It’s as if it, too, has aged. As if it knows that very soon it will not be a part of our lives. That when my grandparents leave us, the house will sever its bond with us too.

It’s the only house I’ve known since childhood. I was three or four years old when it was completed. Being in the army meant that we never had a permanent address. And whenever we had to fill a form or write down a permanent address, we used to write D-16/1, Block 17, Gulshan-e-Iqbal, Karachi. One day this address will cease to exist for me. It will belong to someone else. 

How does one say goodbye to a house? I’ve said goodbye to many houses over the course of my life so I should know but this house is full of so much love. Of so many memories. Of so many people. Unlike the other houses which we’ve lived in over the years, this particular house was built by my grandparents for their family. And it really hurts to think that one day, which I’m afraid will be very soon, this house will get erased from my life. And I’ll be left with just memories. 

What I regret the most is not recording enough of the house. I had plans of taking pictures of the house during different times of the day. Of the white spiral staircase or the light streaming in through the big entrance window into the hall downstairs. Or of the full length mirror in my grandparents’ room where my Nani and mother and aunt would drape their saris. Or of the dark green carpet in the lounge and the Chinese lanterns in the dining room. 

Even though the house may have changed in appearance and outlook, the address remains the same. My grandparents still live there and I’m still their baby. And no matter what happens to that house in the future, the address will forever remain etched in my heart.