Welcome to my World

I have always known “Home” to be a big, rambling, yet rollicking place, where I was king. I did not know it then, but I was not born into this world— the world was made for me. In fact, my world always had me at the very heart of things. I did not ask to be at the center, but things happen to go that way if you are so inclined. Only later—much, much later, in my case—does the heavy weight of the world sometimes cast its blighted shadow on every waking moment. What I am trying to say is that you, yes YOU, can make—or break—your world; it is entirely up to you.

My first “Home” was Vestry School, in Trichy. For about 3 months a year, every year, I owned the place, because the school was closed for both boarders and day-scholars. But not for me: I lived on campus and was, therefore, king of that castle. This continued right through my teen-age years. When I set up my own “Home”, it was in an old fortress-like building in the choicest location in the city of Madras. We lived there for almost 18 years before we moved to Veteran Lines, over 35 years ago. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, it was as if my soul finally found fulfilment, for I had come to stay, never more to roam.

I don’t think my lane—the 4th—ever had so much greenery before we moved in. I told you about the 4 “Roman” trees gracing the lane, and I tell everyone that I planted “my” tree and watched it grow into a 60-foot behemoth over the years. I have always found time for gardening and have filled my space with over 35 different species of plants and trees. I find it very satisfying when my flowering plants blossom, and this they do regularly, according to the season. Right now, I have 5 varieties in bloom—hibiscus (or shoe-flower), blue-bells, bougainvillea, powder-puffs (or pom-poms, as I call them) and the unforgettable “Tony-Rose”. so named by me because he gave me the first cuttings of the plant.

When I set up a sit-out in my yard, it came in handy quite recently, when a film was being shot here in my home. Only recently I realized that the place was too cluttered, so I moved some of the furniture to the empty garage and, voila, I had a 2nd sit-out. This does not include our favorite outdoor hang- out, right by the main entrance to my home, where the missus and I spend many an hour looking at our mobile phones, but always keeping an eye on the marauding cattle that have learnt to empty their bowels even as they are being shooed away. The outdoor plants are supposed to be “cow-proof”, but this does not stop the 2 or 3 belligerent calves from nibbling at the forbidden fodder.

You must be wondering why I haven’t introduced you my home proper. I’ve shown you the frontage, I’ve shown you some of my plants and shrubs, so now I’m going to show you the cottage, cutely called “Bonheur”. When it came up on the market, I was given preference. I was all gaga—we were already living in “our” heaven, and we were being offered more! The cottage now has its own identity and its own name.

“Won’t you come into my parlor/ Said the spider to the fly”. Not just yet, dear Reader. Patience is its own virtue. Next week, I promise to give you the grand tour (without the ramifications alluded to in that old country song). So, hang on; we’ll get there, soon enough.