In search for Home

It is easy to speak words, but not always easy to understand them. They rest on the basic foundation of the alphabets. These alphabets, though tiny in the vastness of the world, create a powerful impact when combined — forming words that carry emotions, meanings, and memories.

Words are more than just tools for communication — they are the quiet beauty of a writer’s mind, resonating with millions of hearts around the globe. (I mean, unless there’s life on other planets too — in which case, who knows? Maybe words would have found a way to touch them too.)

A few days ago, I was reading Thank You for Leaving by Rithvik Singh — a beautiful collection of poems, each one a blend of raw emotion and heartfelt passion.

He wrote as per as below:-

Drawing period in primary school. We were asked to paint our 'dream house'. My friends made houses that were so big, that they looked like buildings. Some were creative enough to make igloos and houses by the lake. I, however, made a small house. From the window, you could see a family laughing together while having dinner. Years later, it is still my dream house.

At a very young age, we are taught to run, to chase after material things that promise us happiness.

We're told that success lies in big houses, fancy titles, and a name carved on the door of an apartment that we can finally call our own. So we rush, faster with each passing year, through tests, jobs, cities, and, on occasion, relationships, all in pursuit of a dream we barely pause to articulate.

But in the midst of this endless race, we often forget the one thing that never really changes is family.

I mean they are the ones who actually stay. Through thick and thin. Through days of silence and moments of chaos. No judgements passed across, all that matters is the silence amidst the love and care. They’re the quiet presence behind every success, and the cushion beneath every fall.

Thinking about what he wrote in his book, it's the parents who gave everything they had, not for recognition, but just to see you rise. A father who walked on a pathway of coal, just so you could walk on cool mud. A mother who didn’t just feed you, but taught you how to hold on, to hope, to kindness, to yourself. And then there’s the sibling who drove you crazy, yet somehow kept you sane from the insanity of the world. A hidden gem per say, always knew how to stand beside you when no one else did, your forever friend. Many go on living their lives, but your siblings teach you to the real meaning of togetherness. 

As we grow older, we chase the dream of building our own home, without realising that the blueprint was always there in the laughter at the dinner table, in the quiet support of a parent’s glance, in the silly arguments with a sibling, and in the warmth of just being understood.

A home isn’t built with just bricks or by engraving your name on a door. It’s built with love, patience, memories, and moments. It's built with people who know your silence and still choose to stay. It’s built with the laughter echoing in the walls, the smell of those recipes, the hugs after long days, and the stories shared during quiet nights.

So maybe, the dream house we drew as children wasn't about size or luxury. Maybe it was just that small house with a window, the one where you could see your family laughing together while having dinner.

Because that’s what home truly is!