STORY OF MY LIFE

Short Story of Childhood Memory – STORY OF MY LIFE
Photo credit: jeltovski from morguefile.com

It’s amazing how we grow from careless kids to responsible teens. What happens in the course that makes us responsible now? It’s the seeds that we sow in the beginning which grows and becomes a huge tree. As I sit here, silently thinking about my growth, enduring the changes, I wonder over some questions which don’t have an answer but it’s because of such unanswerable situations that life has become a roller coaster ride.

As a kid, I used to read a lot of story books. In one particular book, I read a story of a bird. From then on, that has become an integral part of my life. It described a male bird which takes a lot of pain to build a nest and the female bird takes shelter in it and nourishes the baby. When the bird learns to fly, the whole family flies off to a different place leaving behind the beautiful nest for other birds to grow their family in it. It made me wonder. How could they so easily sacrifice their house built with so much effort?

When I used to hold my pappa’s hand and go for a walk, I used to observe the surroundings. It always made me curious to know the things that the book had taught me. I used to ask innumerable questions to my dad but he never grew tired of answering them.

One night, when I was deep in sleep, I got this particular dream. I was walking miles on the endless road, totally isolated but flanked with beautiful trees on the either side. Fascinated by the greenery, I marched towards it only to end up deeper and deeper into the greenery. I happened to stop upon seeing something. It was a massive, wonderful bungalow. I fell in love with that amazing part of art. Yeah, it was indeed a piece of art with every nook and corner touched artistically and lovingly. I don’t know why I felt that it was done lovingly. May be because, things turn out to be beautiful only when we put our love into it- just like the delicacies prepared by mom which taste more delicious with her love.

I explored the house only to fall more in love with it. There was a sloping roof which matched with the greenery around; the large central open courtyard reminded me of the activities that might have taken place there which felt lively even now when it is completely deserted. The chandeliers and the beautiful interiors made me nostalgic; the small water body that kept the house cool added to the beauty of the house- of course, it was all dried up now. It’s really wonderful how such things add life to the spaces which otherwise just become structures. Such liveliness and happening converts the house into a home. They say ‘THE HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS’, but now I began to feel it. This is where my heart belongs. This is what I’m destined to do.

When I woke up from the dream, I was clear about everything. I realized where that mile of walk was intending me to lead. I realized what message my dream wanted to convey me. And years later, when finally my turn of choosing my destination came, I simply closed my eyes, held that book in my hand, pressed it against my chest and relived the dream. When I opened my eyes, I was sure what to do. I decided to choose the road- less traveled. Yes, I took up architecture as my profession because this is what I am destined to do. I wanted to do the same thing that the male bird in the story did, to take pain in building a beautiful house and let others stay in it. This is my dream come true and the happiness that I derive now from this profession is indescribable.

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