Chapter 1: A Blissful Masquerade

Continued.....

Home is a feeling, an emotion and a blessing in disguise…..  It was all that I knew and believed during my early years. For this little space/ our house built with only four mud walls and a leaking roof was the world to me, a magical world that kept me shielded from the dark and ugly realities of the human race.

We lived in a small village in Sharak Pur (Punjab) where living surely was difficult but life… life seemed quite simple.

I often stared at buildings and houses/homes ... lost in their charm, observing how each and every brick played an important part (role) in holding such mighty structures together. In my own little imagination my family was our home, where the twelve of us (9 sisters & 3 brothers) were the bricks and our parents the main foundation.

You know it’s funny that such a feeling as home and a family could turn every bit of darkness into light. I loved every little thing about our small, wrecked and empty house, because it was all that I had and could ever have.

It might seem strange but to run this empty house which barely had any furniture except a few sleeping mats/ old rugs and a stove... it took the majority of us to work. Life was undeniably tough, as just to have a shelter over ourselves and to be able to afford one proper meal, the whole family had to pitch in.

It might seem exaggerated but that’s the truth… it was just too much for my father alone to feed so many mouths and fill so many empty bellies.

 My father was a musician and used to play a “Sitaar” like instrument to entertain people on various occasions. He was often away … travelling village to village and city to city just to earn some money.

Back at home, since my father was rarely around, my mother was the protector and elder of the house. She was the shield that kept the house safe and united. So from a very small age it fell upon us (the children) to earn our living.

However, my mother thought it was best that my brothers (her sons) went to school, so that their education wasn’t compromised. And as for us, the daughters of the house… we were the bread earners... the ones who could earn to make a living even if it was a few rupees.

So we did what we could! I was the sixth child so at such a young age and that too with a wild imagination, being a shepherd along with my elder sisters seemed like some kind of a movie featuring heroes with super powers that were always around to save the day.

“So yes… Life was good till every day was an adventure and every night another page in our own book of life.”

We started our day with the sun… just as the first ray of sunshine kissed our skins; we turned into super heroes and warriors of our very own imaginary world.

Our days started with wandering in the green fields as our cattle grazed under the beautifully enormous blue sky filled with nothing but the echoes of our giggles carried by the wind.

It seemed our life was the perfect picture painted with the colors of freedom, independence, strength, love, friendship and tranquility.

But little did I know that being free like the wind, open like the sky and shining bright like the sun came with a cost….a cost too much to bear, a burden too heavy to carry and a life too good to be real.

It wasn’t long before I realized that this perfection was merely an illusion.

I became conscious of this realization as soon as I started accompanying my sisters to work. While wandering in the fields, I often thought that the work of a shepherd (our work) was so laborious, as it demanded so much energy and responsibility but the reward was just as little.

 It deeply saddened me that our work had little or no value to our masters, even though they earned a good amount from the cattle we grazed.

Unfortunately, I came to realize some of the bitter realities of our society that made life way more complicated than being simpler at a very tender age. Realities that are too complex to be understood by a 7 year old girl who lives in her own fairytale world.

But I still cherished the bright side of our picture perfect life, pushing all the negativity away. For others all this effort may seem to have very little monetary gains but for me… it was an effort in keeping our house a home and all the (fourteen) individuals together as a family just like the bricks in the walls.

 “For me …. home was a blissful masquerade over our wretched lives in a world full of hate, deceit and despair. Whereas my family was what made a house home for me… a blessing in disguise!!!

So what makes your house a home?