Back home

 So, i am back at my home after a long-ish hiatus . A month and a half , to be precise . There are lots of changes that have occurred in my absence . And a lot hasn't . 

The house still holds ground , thankfully . But looks old . Inside as well as outside . The plaster is peeling at places , and there is an inexplicable sewage like odour emanating from one of the rooms . The house is , as if , like an old retainer , tired of waiting for the inmates to return . You can almost hear it breathe a a sigh of relief , as a whoosh of fresh air enters the house through one end and exits , from some where near your right ear . Hah . Don't worry old chap , we are back . 

Parents stare down at you sternly , still , from their assigned places on your walls . You really are home . 

Some of your plants have grown , some withered , and some have finally given up the charade of living and are just waiting to be chucked into the dustbin . 

So much like life itself . 

The trees on the outer periphery have burgeoned into giants , and you can no longer see over their tops .

 One of the  dried up plants , has been quickly colonised by an unknown bird , whose tiny , spotted , oval eggs , three of them , rest comfortably in the nest made out of , the dead plant , still rooted in the dried up soil . One life lost and other gained . Or not . The pigeon mother , having made the mistake of laying eggs in my  pot , made a couple of rounds , found us humans milling around in a place , which until recently , was entirely her own space. Finally , decided that her kids could not be saved , and abandoned them to their doom . 

The gas cylinder still hisses faintly , with dark portends , as it is unlocked . Thankfully , there is no odour , and that hissing is dismissed , like many other noises for a figment of my overripe imagination . 

Talking of overripe , an orange , tired of sitting out on the dining table , turned green with rage first , and then the blackness of disappointment took over . That a  hard rotting ball of black fur , could have been a luscious orange at one point of time , is unbelievable . There are residual verdigris , on the brass fruit bowl , very much green . Stubborn at that , it required lot of elbow grease , and cussing power from the maid , to actually scrub out of existence . 

The bedsheets have a resentful layer of fine dust on them . Loyally preserving the creases we left on them in haste . The dripping wet  clothes , thrown upon the stand in haste , have dried like so much unfulfilled promises , to a crisp . 

The furniture is still welcoming and so is the garbage man . He has , however , lost his front two teeth , which make him look very old ,  all of a sudden . 

Then I crossed a very tired and wrinkled visage in the passageway , I stopped , and turned and saw myself in the mirror, staring back at me , almost crossly , unsmiling .