As I grew up I understood the dynamics of building the kind of house I’d dreamt of. Yet when The Guy and I decided to get married, when I realised I wanted to marry this guy, the first thing on my mind was our home should look like. Yes, I was so obsessed with the idea of a house for Ms. D that not even my love could blind me. Set in 40,000 sq ft of land, the house was palatial enough, yet not even close to what I’d imagined my house to be. It wasn’t chic, it wasn’t modern. It wasn’t even ethnic. It was just over a 100 years old and and very difficult to renovate. I made as many changes in the house as I could afford to and was allowed to. But I didn’t stop dreaming of that perfect house I had envisioned all these years. I thought how I could break that wall and merge those rooms and get modular fittings for the kitchen and built that TV cabinet there; I thought when I would get new sofas and where I would set my library, the entertainment room, where the recliner should be placed and where I would place the crystal I want to buy. I thought of landscaping for the garden, little garden lights and new chandeliers. I thought of contemporary teak wood furniture and 4-poster beds…
So why am I telling you this? I’m telling you this because at this point in time I could be as close as I have ever been to that dream house or farthest from it, depending on how things shape up. As a matter of fact, our 40,000 sq ft of open space is threatened by land sharks in the garb of the government. And love as much as I may the idea of building from scratch the house I want, I hate the idea of losing the open spaces I have grown to love. I know I might never again have the chance to throw a party in the sprawling lawns of the house I live in. Or to plan the Christmas party that the huge Christmas tree in the lawn always has me thinking of. Or to just know that there’s always space to build another room if we want to.
It’s a scary feeling to lose what you have without knowing what will replace it. It’s scarier still for people in my family who’ve spent most part of their lives in this home. The worst part is that for law abiding citizens like us, it’s just not fair. It’s one thing to leave something of your own volition, quite another to be forced to pack up and leave and see your house turned to rubble for some people to park their cars there! A house isn’t just a place made of furniture and floors, walls and doors; it’s made up of memories – good and bad. It’s what you call home.
But there has to be a silver lining somewhere: a change of residence could finally end the problems that seem to have grown up like weeds in a beautiful garden and taken over the lovely flowering plants. I’m not going to let the clouds cast a shadow over my life.