The House That Was Never Built

Laws can’t protect us from a lot of things, like when you are a child, craving to have a home that you can call as your own like the rest of your friends. It’s strange to feel homeless just because you don’t own the structure you live in but children have a strong sense of territory and they can never feel happy about living in a place that is not truly their own.

Let me tell you the story of a little girl. She lived in different homes because each time she got settled in one, her father got a transfer and they had to shift to a new home. Each time they shifted, she lost a little bit of her soul. Her favorite things slipped away somewhere just like her favorite friends. She didn’t know they were lost till she was truly grown and alone. Night after night, she sat on her father’s knee, poring through complicated lines on a construction sketch that criss-crossed into more complicated shapes, sometimes square and sometimes rectangle shaped. She didn’t understand the tiny measurements skipping across those crisp pages that were sketches of her home-to-be. The measurements looked like ants marching to have little crumbs of leftover icing but she sat patiently, listening only to the sound of excitement and hope in her father’s voice as he told her about their dream home, the one that he was building for her. He spoke so clearly that she knew exactly how her house would look, tall and proud, towering against the sky. She walked in and out of those airy rooms where sunshine poured in like molten gold. She knew exactly how she would decorate her room.

Night after night, this routine became an anchor that brought them closer to their dream home. They had nothing else to dream of other than this home that was also their hope. Perhaps they were wrong. Having a roof over your head should be blessing enough. Perhaps saving all that money to marry off the little girl and buy her lots of gold should have been the dream. We don’t know why people feel so strongly about certain dreams but when they do, they work so hard to make it happen.

The big day arrived. They packed their things, crossed continents and waited with bated breath to reach their home. From the airport to the narrow ways and clustered neighborhood, the little girl tried to sit still but her fingers wanted to fly like the wings of an impatient bird. Her father held her close, his heart beating louder than hers. They looked so enviable – the father and his devoted daughter, waiting for the big moment to unfold and beckon them to see their dream come true.

They reached the spot, where the exact address had been told to them through several letters and assurances. Years of dreaming had now reached its culmination. The little girl dashed out of the car, her arms outstretched wide to embrace her home and she stood still, her face turning slightly ashen, her lips puckering just a little and her dark eyes losing its insolence in a moment of confusion.

You could guess she was struggling not to cry. Bricks lay everywhere. There was no house. She turned to see the shock and disbelief in her father’s eyes. She saw the anger, the betrayal and the helplessness. She ran into her father’s arms and said, “It’s okay, we still have our dream, don’t we?” This time, her father’s eyes turned the color of golden sunshine, molten and pouring tears against her soft skin. They held each other, believing that they still had their dream.

Think about it - laws can’t protect those little stolen away souvenirs that lie festering in a child’s memory. Those memories are so fragile that they do not stand the test of time and somewhere, they break little bits of you into shards that can’t be put back together again. You lose the little girl forever. Yet sometimes, you can still have the courage to dream. Laws can’t break into your dreams, you know.

The author of the post is Swapna Raghu Sanand