My Old House

I remember growing up in a tiny, shabby room

With cracked ceilings and unplastered walls

Minimal or no power supply

Dull lights, screeching fans

And an unfixable void.

People who visited our home

Could barely imagine us living in this place

Where 10 people crammed against each other

In a 700 square metre area.

The kitchen was a mess

No sunlight poured its warmth, ever

Nor did a bird chirp:

All I could hear was frog's ugly cacophony

And untimely visits of the lizards.

When my 5th sibling was born

My father decided to rent a place

Or sell this home, bid in some savings

And own a bigger place.

No sooner did he think of it

Than the odds turned in his favour.

We moved out

Still unsure of the welcoming

By the world

Which waited on the other side of the door.

The idea of anyone else acquiring our place

Always sent a chill down my spine

But who could challenge baba's decision?

Ever since,

We never looked back

At our past.

Years went by,

And now I stand at the same place

Which was once a shattering house

Is now a beautiful mansion-

An air of melancholy swept in.

The cheque in my hand

Is wavering in the wind

But for now,

I let myself drift

In the echoing voices of the children

And the beautiful lush greenery

Which once happened to be

My house.