” Home, I will sacrifice thousands of homes for you and I never want to leave your door ” – Sheikh-Ul-Alam
Home is not a mere word but an emotion. An emotion which is attached close to the strings of every heart. The making of home has several processes, but the most prominent one is when it transforms into a ‘ home ‘ from a ‘ house ‘. This process has joy, grief, and remnants of everything. It is surrounded by a spirit created by its locality.
The locality adds hues to the achromatic houses. All the years Homo Sapiens survived this life is recorded under each brick of the house. That certainly makes the relationship between a person and his home strong.
It is a human endeavor to possess emotions, so the fact that a human has a space of closeness towards his home cannot be denied. The location acts as if it is the concrete of the home. If there would not have been concrete, then the home would not have been strong. If there is no locality, the home will not be strong.
To me, home is not something which possesses materialistic things. It is something which possesses peace. In this contemporary world, where chaos lingers around, a person can find peace only in their home. That is why I long for peace to be in my home. I would not mind if my house had a small stature unless and until it provided me with peace.
My dream home should have a plethora of books. Books put the soul into the home, and a home without a soul is not a home. In my home, there would be a small garden where I would grow plants and be embraced by the lush green hues of the plants.
Besides my bed, I will have a writing table for when I feel depressed, I will write happy poems. There will be a small fireplace near the library, where my cold hands will get warmth from the scorching heat. Near the fireplace, there will be a small window through which I can hear the sound of rain and forget all the stress. On the wall of my home, a guitar would be hung so I could drown in the melodies of music.
My home would be small. Each room in my dream home would be labelled as the typical Indian homes have each room named. My dream home would give the essence of my culture. On the floor there would be te ” Kashmiri Carpet “, the ” Kashmiri Shawl ” would lie on my bedside table. There would be a place where I would paste the portraits of the people I adore and it would help me cherish all the memories.
The locality would consist of little girls who would sing each day, there would be animals roaming around freely, nature would be as tranquil as the blue hue. The locals near my dream home would come and visit me and I would visit them while sharing notes of joy and happiness. I would go out and shop in the locality and then visit the park near my home where I would talk to the locals. That would be my dream home, where peace would knock on my door every day, where children would sing mellifluous songs and nature would embrace.
Certainly, it takes time, sacrifice, toil to create a dream home, but it is the home which gives you peace. The true essence of a home differs from person to person, but the peace, joy, and happiness do not differ. It is actually difficult to discuss or entail your dream home. A home has a plethora of elements of which it is composed.
It gives you homesickness. Each day, when you are away from home, it makes you long for it and the same is for the dream house. As little children we used to dream about it, the same as we do now. The dream home is ineffable. It has a heap of feelings which cannot be defined by words.
