4-May-2018: 9:18 pm
Today it’s the last night.
Last night in the house which has been a home for me for 15 years. We moved into this house on shab e barat and we’re moving out a few days after shab e barat. Indeed He’s the master of patterns.
The past few weeks have been very hard. I had thought that moving into a new house would bring a lot of excitement, because that’s how normal human emotions are supposed to function, right? But it didn’t bring excitement, it brought back the memories, happy and excruciatingly painful ones too, lots of nostalgia and a truck loaded of anxiety about the future. I guess somewhere between excitingly visiting the new house again and again and planning which room was whose and then not visiting the new house for even once I grew up, or perhaps died.
The most significant memories of this house are the ones involving Dadi ama. How she used to sit on her charpayi in the sehan, praying. I bed I sleep on once used to be her bed. I still find her things from the side rack. The past days I have relived the scene a hundred times when Mama Papa and phupo took her to the hospital few hours before she passed away. I was standing in the stairs, when I glanced at her and she was almost not breathing, it was then that I prayed for the first time to God that do whatever’s best for her rather than praying that she gets well, and oh God did I hate myself for praying that later.
They brought her back to house after half an hour, we laid her on her charpayi in the lounge, because we knew it was time. Bilal was reciting Surah Yaseen near her ear. Standing by her side, looking at her pale face, trying to stop myself from bursting into tears, I noticed her slowly stopped breathing, and then Mama started crying so I couldn’t hold on any longer and I burst into tears too realizing that she’s gone now…
This house had witnessed may stories. And that’s why it’s the hardest to leave it because its hard to let go of it all.
Watching movies and dramas with fahad and bilal on the PC after mama papa went to sleep. Thinking that we were asleep too. But whenever Mama came downstairs at 3 am I was the only one sitting infront of the PC while fahad bilal would rush to the bed pretending to sleep, I couldn’t because I was always incharge of operating the computer, hence was the one scolded 😀
Playing need for speed and age of empires all day long non-stop with bilal when mama papa were gone to a death in gaon and it used to be our fun day. Trying new recipes and making bilal eat them all. Writing letters to fahad when he was in Skardu. Talking for hours on the phone with Maria. Licking my chili mili wala lollipop while sitting on the watertank and counting the mobile towers from there with bilal. Having newspaper fights with them in the store and then getting scolded by mama whenever she saw the mess. Water balloon fights with all the cousins which angered our neighbors, hence getting scolded again. Playing badminton in the garage and table tennis on the dining table. Spending hours reading books on the DIY swing I built in the sehan and dadi ama scolding me for breaking her pillows which I used as a seat on it. The nest sparrows built on the tubelight which we tried a hundred times not to let them but eventually gave in to their persistence. Not because it caused a mess but because everytime the fan was turned on it killed one of them when they flew in it. So we stopped turning that fan on. Still every year one of their kids drops from the nest and we make it eat roti and drink water forcefully because its too little to eat anything on its own. Untangling it from the mesh of threads its feet were stuck into 😊 All the children who spent few days of their childhood here. Abdul wasay still tries to knock down the nest everytime he visits and we still have to bribe him not to do that!
I will miss every corner of this house. From the loose curtain handle of my room to my washroom door which gets stuck and made me accept my depression, I have a memory associated to everything…
In this last week home stopped feeling like home, because all the stuff was divided between two houses. Endings are indeed always painful.
Disclaimer: This is a reflection by Rida Rafique while she moved from a home to a house but many of us can connect on the nodes she traveled through.