A childhood home

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The title for this post should actually be the place where I used to “sleep” when I was twelve, because I spent so little time at time. I was always out on the dusty roads, filled with dry leaves and shrivelled flowers, rolling on the mud, and living life king-size. Quite literally. Not that my house was ordinary. Far from it, actually. A 3-BHK, equipped with a swimming pool and my very own playground, near the city of Mangalore, Karnataka. After a long day, I would take a dip in the chilly pool and run around in my playground. These were on the back of the house.

Ours was a happy, nuclear family consisting of my father, my mother, my sister and me, of course. I get the title of the “prankster” in my family though. Plus, I had a lot of friends. We used to play all kinds of games, and I would return home looking as if I had rolled around in the mud for hours. Then my mother would prepare an exotic meal for supper I couldn’t wait to bite into. Then I would go up to my room and do my homework. My room looked less like a room and more like a football stadium. There were pictures of my idols on the walls, latest news on my laptop, whatnot. And when the FIFA World Cup would be around the corner, the place would go crazy.

Our home is so special because it embraces nature from all four sides. Surrounded by the bluish Nilgiri Mountains in the west, the the great blue sea to the east and rocky edifices all around, we friends often say we have been blessed by nature. In fact, 50 metres from my playground is a 350 metre drop into the depths of one of the deepest, darkest canyons on the west coast. Last thing you want is a 350 metre free fall into pitch darkness. It once nearly happened to me too. Thank my lucky stars I held on to a tiny branch, and lived to fight another day.

On the front of the house, there is a beautifully crafted, enchanting lawn, filled with the most exciting flowers on the countryside. Not that I am particularly enchanted by those flowers though, because I always get a nice talking-to every time my football knocks over an aromatic orchid or a beautiful daisy. In fact, there are so many of them there that you can’t walk across to the gate without trampling one beneath your legs. Coming to the interiors, our house is filled with all kinds of antique pots, trophies, and even a great, chiming 175-yr old grandfather clock with great lineage. Living in an ancestral home in Coastal Karnataka, India has its advantages.

Our house was full of sweet memories. The legacy of a 300-year old family was established there. The true dream home.

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