A Letter From an Old house to the Oldest Son | Old Memories
On those days a place called home was this house and that’s me. I wasn’t too old that all of you left without even asking me. It’s you, Raman who started this cycle of leaving one by one. You said that you wanted to make your children’s future bright but you left me in the darkness where there is not a single person to light me every night. Yes, I blame you again. You were the first born son in the house and I was very happy. I was there with you and the whole village from celebrating your name ceremony to your wedding ceremony.
This is the baranda where your first son and the last son took bath and had mustard oil massage in the sun. The children pooped at baranda and cried in search of their mothers and grandmothers. My heart was a playground for the kids and an open living room for everybody in the family. I really miss those laughter.
Then suddenly you decided to leave like I was no one to you. You forgot how I saved all of you from those storms in Ashare jhari, I gave you the coolest air in summer. The bed that you used to sleep in is still empty in the poor room of me. After you left, your dad and mom left then slowly your brother’s family left as well. So what next? Yes, I blame you again, you are the head. Do you want to break me down into thousand pieces and use me for the new house? Do you want to give me for rent? Or is there any other plans? Well, I am badly missing all your presence at home. This darkness has been killing me everyday. Let me know what you have decided so far for me.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon.
Your old house