My old home..

A friend sent me a link to her blog that was written about the memories of her old house. The place she grew up in. Her parents have moved out of that place..

Set me thinking. My dad still lives in the house I grew up in. Well after I turned 6. That's where all my memories are. The house and the building is the same. I still go there every week.. Feel like an outsider now.. Priyamvada was a beautiful apartment complex. First of its kind with landscaped gardens, rose gardens and orange and white colour that made it stand apart.

With just 11 apartments, we were about 6-7 of us of similar age. Always played together, rarely fought (or now I don't remember). Isolated from the traffic, we had plenty of space to place outside the complex. There was no school, coaching classes, and IT companies in that space.

Wonderfully isolated, we grew together. Holidays, festivals, occasional tragedies. All 11 families shared together. Occasional arguments only added colour to the scene.

How I wish I could get Manjumavshi's never ending love, Vidwans kaku's pampering, Kelkar aaji's scolding, Uttara Maushi's and Poonam maushi's chattering, Godbole kaku's sane advice, Ghanekar kaku's ever welcoming smile, Vinze aaji's loud laughter back..

There probably similar love, affection still there..people have changed. Or I have changed. But now when I go, I take the elevator upto my dad's apartment and back down.

No stopping at every floor chatting with someone, no cross building communication and certainly no feeling of belonging..