My Home, My Safe Haven

They say we claim spaces and make them into homes. Two years ago, I had a space too. A home with a shabby backyard where we had a traditional South-Indian breakfast, idli with sambar and coconut chutney. She liked cooking outside when the skies were clear and bright; she never forgot to mention it as she did so. I would make a Nescafe-instant cold coffee and chat with her about the week.

She was only an aunt but cared like a mother. It was not my home but felt the closest to it. I had my own room, and I decked it with things from my hometown; the Kalamkari printed bedsheets from Hyderabad…



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