Home is a place we always want to leave at some point of time. But ironically, it is something to which we yearn to return to as soon as we get a little far away from it. We are used to the comforts and the pains it harbours, and when we go out of it, the comfort of the outer world and the pain it inflicts up on us makes us realise that home is the best place to be in.
Home, is something which a drunkard on the street wants when he is inebriated and helpless. Home, is something which a prostitute wants when she is tired of her job, and wants to sleep with someone who remains with her forever. Home is something which a rich man wants, because amongst the riches he has, his busy life hardly gives him time to create a home out of his 6 BHK apartment. Home, is something which we want to create throughout our lives, in a way it becomes the only thing which we want when we take our last breath. Not everyone gets a literal death bed.
But then home is not that house with four walls and some rooms. Home is where you feel you are safe, and it is that haven where you want to go to whenever you feel you are done with the world, it is the place which makes you breath without regretting a second of your life, it is where you realise that you have some place to connect yourself with. A soldier's home can be the ground he dies on, where he realises that he is going to be a martyr to his country, where he feels that whatever actions he has taken in his life have come to an end which people will respect him for, where he feels that his life's purpose has been solved,even though they are solved by the last breath he ever takes.
Home is where you feel peaceful, contented. Some people do not consider a house with their parents home- for them, a place where they think they are better off, where they feel that they could do what they wish to, where they feel that it gives them a calm which no other place can ever give, they build up an abstract home right there.
Every man has two homes in this world- one which already exists, and one which he wants to exist. And when both of them become one, he finds peace.
Home is where the heart is, they say. But a man has his heart on various pursuits in his life, he is called hedonistic. Home is not about hedonism, but something which we come back to by dealing with all our hedonistic pursuits. Home is where his heart finally comes and beats, and finds solace.
My home is far away, and I feel morose. Today if I want to go home instantly, it can't happen. There are worldly protocols that stop me and it is saddening to say the least. But six months into college I have understood, you take the home with yourself, you can actually; if you want to. I am still trying to figure out my days here in this institution, in this new city where everything is so fast and so abnormally mechanical. Coming from a small town in a small state like Chhattisgarh, living next to forests and trees and beautiful untamed surroundings, I am here, in this place where walls talk to you because they exist everywhere. These walls are to be broken and have to be traveled into, because treasures are everywhere. We just need to find them.