Home is where childhood is

Our childhood is so special. We don’t want to leave it. Likewise, we don’t want to leave our home. Even though we don’t want to, our childhood leaves us. We move with time. We leave home. We wish to return to our vanished world. We want to be the person we once were.

There was time when the consequences of not leaving home did not bother us so much. Now it matters. We don’t want to be at home just for the sake of it. More often than not we make new homes. Does the place matter or there is something else that makes our homes such a special place?

In this mobile world, is our home also mobile? Does an individual change as he moves from one home to another?

Home brings nostalgia. One feels connected with the person with whom he lived. The moment someone tells him that he is from his place, he begins to imagine the things and places he was so intimately associated with, like his school, the playground, the cinema halls. Some say, regardless of the location, individuals remain unchanged. They say our psychology, our consciousness, and our subjectivity does not really depend on the place we live.

It is our home where we find our mind the most peaceful. It is our home where we attain “a sustainable equilibrium in which the body refuels and repairs itself and the mind feels peaceful, happy, and loving”. This is our resting place. When we are in a disturbed state, our physical and psychological equilibrium becomes off balance. We want to re-establish the equilibrium. One way is that we come home.

We are home the moment we have the ‘sense of home’. This sense lights up our responsive network. We are at home with our body, with our senses, with our work. We are a home with our space.

Home is not built in a day. For a home to be called a ‘home’, one needs a homemaker. One could be the homemaker himself. For many people home is part of their self-definition. We try to display ourselves through our homes.

A mere functional living space is not home. One needs to develop a relationship with the space to call it home. My home is where my people are. Home is where Ma is. I mean, home is where I can be with myself.

I left home many years ago but I have not forgotten it. I know it is not the same home. I miss Ma. I know I would be missing many other things. But I want to go home to reinvent myself, to be with myself. I wish that one day my children and grandchildren would want to know more about my home, about my family heritage and values.

What a paradox? Unless, you leave home, you wouldn’t know what you are missing.