The Room
When I was a kid, I had to share my room with my brother. Till one day he decided that he wanted a room of his own. My parents also thought it was right for him to have his own room. The question was who was to move out? I didn’t care which room I got back then, but over the years I finally understood why my brother chose the room he did. He decided to move his things to the first floor. I was to retain our room on the ground floor.
Here is what happened after he moved to the first floor:
A. His room was big and was equipped with a stereo.
B. He considered the whole of the first floor his “territory”.
C. He said that he was the British of the Family and that I was the Indian.
D. He said I scored well in History because of him. Apparently he taught me the concept of divide and rule, colonization and occupation and he introduced industrialization in the house. [I won’t get into the details about industrialization.]
E. Granny could not walk up the steps.
Three months into having tasted independence-privacy-and calling a whole room my own, my paternal Grandmother moved in for her 6 month visit. She became my new room mate. Now she was alright, but she was one of those people who were obsessively clean. Every morning I woke up to pack my bag I’d have to hunt for my things. She didn’t understand it when I told her that I could still find my belongings irrespective of the disorderliness in which they were kept. She color coded, alphabetized, plasticized and non plasticized all my belongings. She even managed to reach my secret "goodie hoarding" and had all my toffees and chocolate bars arranged neatly always leaving me a note when she took anything from my loot. It was hard initially and it continued to be hard.
She passed away when I was in the 9th Standard. Her 6 month trip had prolonged to a 3 year trip.
I finally had my room back. Yay! Independence. But nah… I was really the family Indian; I had to fight for my freedom. 9th and 10th standard were the worst in every possible way. We had guests at our house all the time. Since my brother had his 12th boards and college later, it was decided that he would retain his room. I got kicked out of my own room which was used as the additional guest room along with the actual guest room. Where did I sleep? Nobody cared. I was the Indian. I had to take refuge with the British. I was allowed to sleep on the bed on the first floor in the library.
In 11th and 12th standard I was way too happy to bother about my room.
College- I finally had my own room. It was my 15.08.1947. 5 Years of having my own room. My room has become such an integral part of my life. When I leave home in a couple –three months (max) I won’t be taking much from my room except my law books, other books, clothes… that’s about it. All traces of me having been in the room will be gone if those three essentials are removed :(
Hence I will soon cease to be the Indian. I’ll become the Alien visiting the country on a weekend visa.
I will have my own country =)
Here is what happened after he moved to the first floor:
A. His room was big and was equipped with a stereo.
B. He considered the whole of the first floor his “territory”.
C. He said that he was the British of the Family and that I was the Indian.
D. He said I scored well in History because of him. Apparently he taught me the concept of divide and rule, colonization and occupation and he introduced industrialization in the house. [I won’t get into the details about industrialization.]
E. Granny could not walk up the steps.
Three months into having tasted independence-privacy-and calling a whole room my own, my paternal Grandmother moved in for her 6 month visit. She became my new room mate. Now she was alright, but she was one of those people who were obsessively clean. Every morning I woke up to pack my bag I’d have to hunt for my things. She didn’t understand it when I told her that I could still find my belongings irrespective of the disorderliness in which they were kept. She color coded, alphabetized, plasticized and non plasticized all my belongings. She even managed to reach my secret "goodie hoarding" and had all my toffees and chocolate bars arranged neatly always leaving me a note when she took anything from my loot. It was hard initially and it continued to be hard.
She passed away when I was in the 9th Standard. Her 6 month trip had prolonged to a 3 year trip.
I finally had my room back. Yay! Independence. But nah… I was really the family Indian; I had to fight for my freedom. 9th and 10th standard were the worst in every possible way. We had guests at our house all the time. Since my brother had his 12th boards and college later, it was decided that he would retain his room. I got kicked out of my own room which was used as the additional guest room along with the actual guest room. Where did I sleep? Nobody cared. I was the Indian. I had to take refuge with the British. I was allowed to sleep on the bed on the first floor in the library.
In 11th and 12th standard I was way too happy to bother about my room.
College- I finally had my own room. It was my 15.08.1947. 5 Years of having my own room. My room has become such an integral part of my life. When I leave home in a couple –three months (max) I won’t be taking much from my room except my law books, other books, clothes… that’s about it. All traces of me having been in the room will be gone if those three essentials are removed :(
Hence I will soon cease to be the Indian. I’ll become the Alien visiting the country on a weekend visa.
I will have my own country =)
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