Finding home
#27: 100 words of imagining that displacement
Finding home
Fleeing to cross the new border, having left everything behind, they arrived after nightfall via a non-stop, two-day train.
An old chowkidar was waiting. He unlocked the empty house where one room had been readied for them. The widow put her youngest two down on the bed. She lay sheets down on the floor for herself and her teenage son and daughter. Exhaustion overwhelmed the heat and mosquitoes, and they fell asleep.
Next morning, they awoke to discover a summer garden with fruit-laden trees behind the house — a sight that would bring joy for years to come, despite their losses.
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reena | 12.27.23
This micro story is inspired by my grandmother’s journey and landing during India’s violent 1947 Partition, when she as a widow had to flee her hometown (now in Pakistan) with her children to arrive in a completely alien town (on the India side) and begin life from scratch with her young children. At the time she had no home, no means and no husband. She was kindly given a house by a distant relative where she was able to live and raise her children. It’s part of an arduous and inspiring story I’m working on recounting.
I’ve written about her before as she’s a beacon in my life.
As a number of people have already said, "hope" is the word I want to use here too. I'm a gardener and have lived in a lot of different places. I am always trying to create a garden for myself to wake up to - what a beautiful gift to your grandmother who had (and no doubt would) endure so much. Thanks Reena!
"discover a summer garden with fruit-laden trees behind the house — a sight that would bring joy for years to come" - these words felt a breath of fresh air and a beginning of another long hopeful journey. So beautiful how you create a feeling experience in such few words.