Image by StockSnap from Pixabay 

That day was raining incessantly. I had some work in the bank. It was a working day and the bank was close by. I walked down the footpath and waded through the puddles of water. Along the side was a tarpaulin hung shelter with raindrops dripping by its side. The wind was blowing hard. To my grief,  I found a woman with her two kids beneath clutching onto each other to avoid themselves from the torrential shower. Their embrace perhaps failed to give the necessary warmth. The three were shivering. The meagre food in an aluminium bowl was afloat in the collected water along the pavement which was completely submerged now. This too is a home. My heart said but the conscience? A pinch of guilt touched me. Can't something be done to these people for their minimum accommodation so that nature doesn’t grip over their punity and helplessness? For the time being I could only thank my God for giving his love, my home my family of rank and privilege. The day passed for me. I went back home to the concrete shelter of life and the cover of other embarrassments my 3 storeyd house my home.

Days passed. The rains were over so my thoughts surrounding that very incident. As a matter of fact I got transferred and the office was in another city. I shifted my dwelling. My daily life became busy. My daily activities and professional life without a warm meal after the day's work and the absence of smiling faces of my family member revved up my jotting spirit. Weird kaleidoscopic world with my own interpretations. I turned into a writer in my leisure hours. One day I found a crow weaving a nest in the Neem tree beside my study window. The natural engineering stunned me. The intricate weaving of the leaves with twigs and branches. The time came when a few eggs were laid inside. The cowlings flew away after regaining strength and soon after their wings got strong enough to fly with the wind. My 2nd and 4th Saturdays were spent watching these natural activities. Soon the rains came and destroyed the empty nest. I forgot and then remembered it was time to renew my rent tenure or I will have to leave. A realization engulfed me. Perhaps this is life. Shifting from shelter to shelter. Each house is not a home. Also, every home is not under the parasol of a house. People have family but circumstances don’t offer them a roof others have a roof but far away from the happiness of being surrounded by the family. That is how life is.  

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