MUNGFALI

It didn’t feel anything like coming home.

I was quite upset with Dad for not getting our new house ready by the time I had to leave the city. But it had been for a totally different reason. Having found my love in a new city where I had gone for an assignment, I was sure I wanted to get married to him, and as early as I can. And as if I had a premonition about the whole thing earlier, I used to keep hurrying Dad to get our new house ready so that we could shift into it as soon as possible, and I would get to enjoy it for at least a while – the balcony in my proposed room, the huge terrace. I had spent nights dreaming of all the barbecue parties I would throw on the terrace when the family got together, and all the sleepovers I would invite my friends to.

But none of this ever happened.

And now here I was, back from my assignment after a period of six months, and I had no clue what to expect from this new place I was going to call home, even if it was for a short while till I got married to my love.

I got out of the car and a smiling Balu greeted me.

‘Ya ya tai…’ (Come come!) he said, as he hurried and came forward to remove my bags from the dickey of the car.

‘Kasa ahes Balu?’ (How are you Balu?) I asked him. He just smiled in response. Balu had been with us for almost 10 years now.

I got into the elevator along with Mom and Dad. And soon we were right outside our house, and then inside the new apartment.

I admit, the new house was very beautiful, much more spacious, and didn’t look like a dumpyard like our last one had looked.

But I just didn’t feel right.

I went into my room. Mom and Dad eagerly tagged behind me, to get my first expression I guess, on seeing my new room and all. It was just like I had wished it to be. But it still didn’t feel right. All the old belonging that I had wanted to keep were there in the room – an old dressing table, my favourite soft toy, my first quilt, the study table and the photo-frame I used to keep on it. And even the new things – right from curtains to the lamp shade, to the new phone connection in my room – were in the place and just as I wanted them to be.

But it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel like home.

I immediately wanted to turn around and say to Dad – something’s missing. But I saw the look of expectation and anticipation on my parents’ faces, and I lied. They had taken immense pains to make up for not getting the new house ready in time – every minute detail of my room, even stuff I had forgotten I had ever mentioned/asked for was there and had been taken care of. I smiled my best false smile and said –

‘This is beautiful, I love it!’

Mom came forward and hugged me.

‘I am so glad you liked it! Dad has put in a lot of efforts to get it ready!’ mom disclosed finally; and I was glad I had lied.

For many days after that I tried to grasp that which seemed to have gotten lost as we had shifted just few blocks down the road. I tried to find that sense of familiarity, that feeling of belongingness, of comfort. The feeling of home. But I failed everyday. I just couldn’t I kept missing and wishing for my old room, my old house – the house that felt like home. Even with all the matched curtains and sofa sets and the complementary furniture and everything, it still felt like somebody else’s house. I tried to feel what Mom felt when she talked about our new house with her friends, but I couldn’t.

And then one day I woke to the smell of Mungfali’s at my bed-side.

That smoke that rises from fresh mungfali’s after they have been just roasted on coal – it is my most favourite smell in the world. It is the smell of my childhood.

I sat up on the bed, rubbing my eyes and smiled lazily at the same old wicker basket in which Mom used to remove the mungfalis after they had been roasted, and covered them with a thin cotton cloth, to retain the smoke in it just a little longer. I couldn’t possibly count the scores of mornings when I had woken up to that smell by my bed side.

I picked up the basket and came out in the drawing room. I went and sat in the balcony, on the swing, holding the basket between my legs and looked at the first colours of the morning being splashed across the sky. I didn’t even realize when Dad came and stood behind me. All I can say is, he had been standing and observing me for quite a while – because when I happened to look at him, he had the sweetest smile on his face. I pulled my legs together and made room for him to come and sit on the swing next to me.

He came and sat down and put his arm around me and said –

‘Welcome home Mau…’

And suddenly it felt like I had finally come back home again.