The house

it wasn't the biggest of bungalows you would find, neither was it exclusively located. it was inconspicuously placed in the industrial town of Kanpur. it didn't have any spectacular beauty around it nor was it set in a place of natural endowments.
though it may sund drab and colourless, for me it had the most heavenly things within. the house was built by my maternal grandfather and till recently had a weather beaten and grand look. every moment spent in that house was special. as a toddler i would lovingly refer to the house as 'my palace'.
every thing about the house fascinated me. the house had a variety of plants and trees that my grandparents had so lovingly planted. the old mango tree in the back garden looked over the house and seemed to tell birds stories. the smaller bushes were cooler playgrounds for the insects and squirrels squeaked in delight as they clamboured over the guava tree.
summer nights in the house were so enchanting, sitting in the garden savouring the balmy breeze, listening to evening prayers in the distance.
the house had a spirit, which would pull me every year towards it. even daily chores would seem fun! in the winters, the delicious sunlight would dance in every corner of the house, from one lawn to the other, streaming in through the windows and lighting up the windows. with the shifting rays, we too would shift to enjoy every moment.
winter evenings were filled with the warmth and smell of a slow burning coal fire and sumptious food. the house commanded respect and had a magnetism which pulled me year after year. it was more than just bricks and cement, we spun many fond memories, enjoyed every day.
but with time things change, my grandparents left the house to live close to us in Delhi due to many practical reasons. we were inwardly upset but did not show it. our grandparents were even more upset, they had built it with their own hands. forme it was like leaving a family member behind. i had heated arguments with my mother, but soon realised the validity of her reason.
it all happened in a blur and my grandparents came to live in Delhi.
time has passed but memories remain. even now when i talk to grandparents, somewhere in the midst of our conversations, the memories come out. even now when i sit idle, i go into a world of cherished memories. time coagulates and i can see everything clearly in my mind's eye. that is when i wish i could go back, to 'my palace', the heaven, the dream and relive every memory, every moment..