Where is my home?
This is my home, a place that sees my flaws and strengths every day, a place where I feel safe, I stay with my family, celebrating every occasion, every ups, and downs.
When people visit my home, I greet them with a smile. I hand them glasses of water and cups of tea. They get comfortable and gently ask -- where is your maternal home? I give them void stares. My smile slowly fades away. I start to feel uncomfortable. I take a pause, try to process their words. They give me complement -- you decorated your in-laws' home beautifully. I smile, thank them nodding my head.
When I go to bed at night, clusters of thoughts spin around my head. I question, where is my home? These thoughts take me back to the old days...
Before getting married, my maternal home was my home where I was born, grew up, experienced my sweet sixteen. Then one day I got married off. After marriage, I tried to understand how my mother-in-law maintains the house, manages the whole family. I followed her footsteps, made this house into my home. But why do you question my identity dragging me to reality?. I refuse to admit it, but I never had a home. It breaks my heart. I consciously and subconsciously don't want to admit it. I'm getting puzzled, but I will still welcome you to this home with a smile because I call it home.
A backstory written and performed by Antara Titikhsha Barua at International Women's Day celebration event, Storytellers organized by The Echo AUW and the Student Government. Storytellers was an interactive session where participants were asked to describe a backstory of an artwork depicted on screen.
No comments