Happiness Lies Within

HOUSE OF DREAMS

"I'll never have more kids than I have rooms in my house,' her own promise to herself echoed in Ragini's ears, loud enough to even drown for a minute the chorus of fourteen children reciting the multiplication table of 12, and ten more busy in various other recitals. Her eyes stared at the books that had, just a minute ago, stood in the shape of a tall tower. But once again, for the tenth time that month, the tower had collapsed in protest of its poor structural integrity and had come crashing down, sending the books flying all across the floor.

Her despairing eyes looked around her living room. It showed evidence of a lot of living for sure. Near the door were piled shoes of all shapes and sizes. Near one wall were piled a number of rugs and bed sheets, the only 'carpeting' that living room had ever known. These adorned the floor every night, but shrank to a corner when the day dawned. One of the girls did her best to cover them up with a bed sheet to bring some neatness and order to the room. But that was just as impossible as her own attempts had been when she had tried to bring neatness to her own, or rather the 'children's room' in her parents' home.

Ragini was one of five kids that her parents had. She had two elder sisters, one younger sister and a brother who was the youngest of the family. Five kids, an ailing grandmother and forever busy parents, living in a house with only two bedrooms and a hall that was definitely too small to be called a hall. Her mother did her best, but quiet and order were things that the house had never known. Never, at least, since Ragini could remember. Worst of all was that nobody in the house seemed to mind it, except her.

The small living room that they had was divided into two. One side served as Ragini's grandmother's bedroom. The other side had a few chairs and a table in it, and also an old lamp, and it thereby made show of being a living room. Her parents' bedroom was crowded with cupboards, her own room, the children's room, was crowded by children. Sleeping, laughing, crying, fighting, playing, dancing, singing, shouting children. Ragini loved her family, but hated her house. And before she stepped into her teen years, she had already started looking forward to the day when she would have her own home. Her own dream home, neat, clean, orderly and adorned in best style. 'My home would never be like this,' was her promise to herself. 'I would never have more kids than I have rooms in my house,' was one thing that she was sure about in the realm of the Future, even if everything else was nothing more than just specters of hazy possibilities and expectations.

As years passed, Ragini's elder sisters grew up, got married and left the house. But the house still seemed almost as full as before. Because the younger sister and brother had grown up too and needed more space. Their things filled up all the spaces the elder sisters had vacated, and their friends provided just as much crowd and noise as there had been before.

'Next is your turn,' Ragini's sisters said to her whenever she teased them about the trials and tribulations of their married life. She rolled her eyes at this statement and hid the fact that she was eagerly waiting for her turn. Her sisters mourned the loss of their freedom after marriage. But to her, marriage seemed like a door to freedom. It will take her out of her parents' house. It will give her a home of her own. Her own to adorn and nurture. Her own to put to order and decorate as she chose. And she already had a scrapbook full of ideas for that home. A secret scrapbook that drew her attention far more strongly than any of her coursebooks.

That scrapbook attracted items with a greater speed after Ragini's marriage. But alas, none of its ideas could be used. Her husband was a professor in a private engineering college in Gurgaon. But his family home was in Hisar, and he lived in a rented apartment in Gurgaon. The apartment was bigger than her parents' home, but it was rented. It was already furnished, so it did not need new furniture. She couldn't have told her husband that she hated the furniture he had put in his apartment. She hated the few show pieces and one painting that he had adorned his house with. And most of all, she hated the colour on the walls. All the walls were covered in the worst shade of green that anyone could ever think of putting on their walls. But she could do nothing about it because it was a rented house and the choice of the house owner ruled. She could only add more and more items in her scrapbook, spend hours designing her dream home and try what she could to make the rented apartment better by way of buying new cushions and curtains and some pretty show pieces. But more than that, she could do nothing.