The house that moved in

I was surprised to notice
That the old wall that used to stare at me
– When depressed –
Has moved into my new home
In my new city.
 
But then, it is just not the wall
That has moved in.
The entire house
– the house that I left behind –
Has crept in. Surreptitiously.
 
I notice that the corner,
Where I used to put my long chair
To read, has now occupied
The best part of the drawing room
And sits there, calm and confident.
 
The old shoe rack and the bookshelf,
And the grim portraits
Of unknown ancestors,
And all the other useless relics
Seems to have been dragged in by the old storeroom.
 
This storeroom, of my old house,
Has quite a personality. It collects
Memories, like cranky grandmothers do.
It used to accuse me, I remember,
Of ignoring it – which I did.
 
The storeroom has now moved into
The big, sunny guest-room;
I do not know if it feels itself
To be a guest in this new house
Or just wants more importance.
 
The happy, creaky door
That doesn’t shut properly,
And the windows that don’t open easily,
And the tap that loves music,
And the garden-hose that lies coiled
Like a serpent in the sun,
And the small red bicycle
That is cheerfully waiting for me
To turn young and ride it again,
And…
 
Oh, the entire old house
Has moved in quietly, unbidden, uninvited,
And with a confidence that says –
“I will not leave you
Till you die
Whether you like it,
Or not.”
 
***
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About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

6 responses to “The house that moved in

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