In my childhood, guests barged into our house but my heart was shut for them. They turned my parents into clowns. They encroached the little space I had. And the more my sister loved guests, the more I disappeared into corners.
Recurring guests? More like recurring nightmares.
You can’t predict them. Chandu Ajoba and Vasudha Aaji, my father’s uncle and aunt often visited us from Akola, the town my father grew up in. My father would give them the kind of attention and cheerfulness I hardly received.
My mother had to cook special meals. We had to make space for their bags and their slow morning rituals.
Once Vasudha Aaji was in the toilet for so long I shat in my pants!
I envied friends whose guests were cool cousins from other countries or bigger cities. What was Akola in comparison to Australia?
Vasudha Aaji would craft in the afternoons with her various laces and sequins. I’d stare at her wrinkled, luminous hands.
Chandu Aajoba and I walked to the nearest Dinshaw’s and he got us family packs of our favourite butterscotch ice cream.
I did love this Aaji-Aajoba pair, but I was never not-annoyed by them. Because of them I felt possessive of my home for the first time.
I realized later that my father was (almost) their only family. They never had children.
A few years after Chandu Aajoba passed away, an aged Vasudha Aaji was brought to our village house. The house in which I have stayed only intermittently, having hopped from one big city to another. The house which has more room for guests.
Three years back, Vasudha Aaji’s niece, Gauri, visited us with her mother Niti, and her daughter Maya. I was home for Diwali. Usually my sister enthusiastically handles guests and I disappear. That day my sister was out of town.
“Mi psychotherapist aahe..” Gauri said. I decided to disappear a bit later. It was rare to encounter guests who shared my inclinations. We spoke. She lived in Pune, just like me. We exchanged numbers. I showed Maya the books I had recently curated for a children’s library. She had read most of them.
When I met them in Pune, I felt a lightness I hardly felt with my ‘relatives’. This was something else.
Eventually, Gauri helped me shift from a painfully dull and disconnected area of Pune to her own cozy neighbourhood. Her house was one of the most special, heart-curated, homely homes I have visited.
Now guess who is the recurring guest in Gauri’s house?
Me. Gauri’s dog is not just fond of me but also my partner. I try to give Maya as much space as I can when I visit Gauri. The three of us discuss books, writing, what we’re watching, and more recently, protein and physical health.
In these conversations, I almost always forget how we met. But I’m grateful we did.
How have you experienced the species called ‘guests’ in your life?
If you want to write/create everyday with me, my lovely poet partner, Vimal Chitra, and several amazing writers, artists, and humans - join us at CoCreateClub. We just started our August cohort, and have already opened the doors to September: here.
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