HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS (2 minute read)
By Neel Anil Panicker
It’s beaten and battered. It’s demeaning and dangerous. It’s inhuman and inhospitable.
But, still, it’s home. HOME with a capital H.
It’s Seelampur__the place of your birth, raised and razed, several times over.
It’s the place that holds all your memories; the place where you lost and found__everything from a home to family, to friends, to football.
They__those bombastic guys who speak English with a twang and who walk around with a swagger and whose bodies reek of the best of eu de cologne, the kind who live in fancy multi storied houses and villas by the sea, and who zip around in fancy planes __all those spoilt brats who claim themselves to be Children of a Higher God__they say__theirs’ is life, that it’s they who live while others are doomed to a lifetime of misery and unhappiness.
I say, no. That they’re wrong; we’re right.
‘coz we’ve got one thing they may never ever possess.
We’ve got love.
And that, I say, is the greatest of all wealth.
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