Home Is Not Just A Place; It Is An Indescribable Sentiment

‘Home’ conjures up sentiments of warmth and belonging, as the writer describes so eloquently in her ode to home.

To define home accurately would be an almost impossible task. It is that sentiment where words fail, and don’t nearly do justice, try as I might. So I imagine it as lacking extravagance; its vision is that of a simple place where my heart is restful – my blood pressure normal, and my eyes shut in reverence; my breath comes and goes in bursts of joy and deep contentment. My pillow is soft, and the bed I rest upon is a gentle boat that lulls me into an unperturbed sleep, nourishing my every nerve, wrought by the world’s strife by day.

Having a strong ‘homing instinct’ is one expression that was created from a need to reinforce this feeling of home. It simply means to sharply focus on something. Yes, home frees from us, all the clutter of daily stresses, helping us home in on ourselves.

An untarnished and unsullied image of home is what we carry with us when we venture away, with a desire to return to this temple we have dedicated to our core.

A place where I can be completely myself

For me home is the place where prying eyes are absent.

It is that haven where I can yell, and be yelled at, yet none of it leaving a lasting impact; mealtimes are just as zealous as ever, the family re-assembling to break bread in easy posture.

I can sulk at home, and this childish act grabs attention from those I seek. I can ‘strike work’ and I will be appreciated for all previous efforts made for the family, instead of being told, “don’t return tomorrow- no salary hike is indicated, your quality of work just isn’t up to the mark.”

I can choose to be an agnostic, atheist or a god-fearing fanatic, and none will tell me off in my home. Discussions on each other’s religious leanings happen, yet I am free to choose my path. Yes, that would be home.

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A safe space

It is a child’s security blanket, and an adolescent’s trespasses are all forgiven and forgotten, once confessions at the altar of home are made. The billowing curtains on the windows, or a home-cooked meal all absorb torrential storms raging inside. Home’s where bad choices recede, since it’s that shelter you turn to, when all else fails you. Home shields you from burning up with guilt, redirecting you to that light which seems to dim in your fight to live right, and with pride.

Home’s significance – what’s it all about? As a species, we humans need a nest- to be ourselves- naked and raw, in our animal state, uncovered as it were. We established a version of it when families came into being. Definitions vary. However, in our hearts and minds, it’s the one constant: it’s a cocoon, and a womb – and a privilege to have one to belong to.

As some wise person has said, home is truly the base where everything begins, and to add to that, I’d say, it’s also where a lot ends.

Image source: a still from the movie Dear Zindagi

About the Author

Kamalini

I am a writer, a French teacher and a musician. I am a mother of two, a transgender girl, Chaith-Aanya, and a daughter, Ambika, who is a research specialist. My husband, Raja, is a read more...

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