Daily Prompt: Our House
What are the earliest memories of the place you lived in as a child? Describe your house. What did it look like? How did it smell? What did it sound like? Was it quiet like a library, or full of noise of life? Tell us about it, in as much detail as you can recall.
My memories are of our old house in our ancestral village. My father was in the Army. There are dim memories of other homes, where as a family we stayed. Whenever our father was posted to a new station, we would be in between getting a house , we would temporarily come to the village home.
The old house was built in the late nineteenth century. It is reminiscent of the Mughal period. It is all arches. The facade of the building is covered with decorative work.
At one time it was filled with family members. Grandma, her sister, aunt, younger uncle, elder uncle with wife and children and us. My mother and my siblings, we all lived together.
The house used to ring with the sounds of talking, laughing and crying of babies. Neighbors were welcome at any time they wanted to come. Endless cups of tea would be drunk. Gossips would be exchanged in hushed whispers. If it was lunch time, the visitors would stay and partake of the food.
As a child climbing the steps to the house looked formidable to me. I loved to play in going through the arches in and out. The arches had intricate work done to them. Sometimes I had my head or arm stuck and I would get a scolding. The doors and the windows had old style carved woodwork. They are antique now and must be worth a lot of money.
My husband belonged to a different family and a different village. My visits to the ancestral village became very few and far between.The elders are now a distant memory.
The house remains closed now. A musty, old world smell pervades it. It is in a state of disrepair. The family members gather in it only when someone dies, and is brought to the village to be buried.
It lies empty. The old era of living is gone.