The Monument Of Memories

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Posted: 10 days ago


The Monument Of Memories


Like an unexpected guest, I approached the biggest tree in the garden. A gentle smile graced its lips. The gentle breeze was like the music of old memories to me. 

Each raindrop was a drop that kissed these faded walls in those days when life and these walls had together existed there!  Each leaf sang of those treasured memories, of the comforting love that still lingered there and the hopes that the structure held for the future.

When I stood in front of that dilapidated old building, I heard those faded walls murmur softly. As I slowly started walking around the house, the age-old breeze caressed my cheeks like an old woman smiling feebly and toothlessly at the youthful world! 

The tall trees stood there like tireless ageless guardians. The old building stood in a composed way as if it had chosen solitude for itself! In my daydreams, I sat on a wicker chair listening to the chattering wildlife around while the house narrated its silent stories.

The crumbling walls that were now nothing more than a ghostly silhouette of a previous existence once echoed with life's triumphs and laughter. The wind whistled through the trees, bringing with it the laughter of children who once lived there and the caring call of a mother letting them know dinner was ready.

The spirit of the house had rescued itself by sleeping in the walls, by retreating into the welcoming wood away from the dust. It stayed there with the memories of its birth, the hugs, and laughter that once were its colors and music! 

I think the house had become aware of itself, of the history that echoed within the walls.  And today, in my presence, after eon, the house opened each door and window. It shivered at first, for the wind felt cold and the musty odor of ancient dust was overpowering. It was about to close, to hide away in isolation again, but I pleaded with the walls and the floor, the holes of the ceiling and the smiles of the windows to say something, to reveal a bit about its past glory. I implored the house to change its mind. My thoughts passed through the cracked windows and the mildewy browned walls scarred with water stains painted upon the inner walls.

The house shivered again, but in a different way! This time there was a small hint of warmth, a tiny brave smile in the walls….

Each one of us has a personal narrative. In the same way, I feel every house has a story to share with the passersby. 

The abandoned house started narrating its stories… about its inhabitants, the mother’s storytelling, the father who shared his experiences and the pride they took in their children’s small daily achievements; the tiny frown, the slight smile or the twinkle in the eyes of a parent — all become part of that house which silently shared every feeling with them. Its experiences in the formative years, those incidents, or words that touched its emotions or made it feel good or bad at that moment…

The house started narrating its story—"

I too was an important part of a family, a family with whom I shared my experiences, my opinions, my reactions, my emotions, my vulnerabilities, and my strengths. These are but small snippets of ourselves that I choose to share. What about the real true stories? Those stories, when my master brought his newly married bride to this house… even today I blush when I recollect the romances of those days they had amidst my silent glances! They consummated here, and we've witnessed the consequent aura of exoticism, their sensual erotic fantasies every night from then on.  

I still remember how the ceiling echoed with their lustful whispers, the sidewalls used to kiss the breeze to reflect their night long adventures. I still remember how she used to coyly plead with him to allow her to sleep for a while and his never-ending overtures in those highly romantic nights. We, all the four walls of their bedroom, spent sleepless nights for months. After a few months, all of a sudden, one day she shyly whispered something into his ears, we tried our best to make out what it was!  We later realized when he brought a big glass of fruit juice pleading her to have it for the sake of his kid! The entire house now witnessed their sense of belonging, that fond association, the celebration of their union! The floor took it upon herself to take care of the would-be mother like an invisible mother. We started counting days and nights to see that blooming flower of their love to smile at us. 

The kid came and many sleepless nights again, this time only for mother! After a few years, another little one, many more chirpy laughs, and lots of tiny footsteps. Every time the floor turned herself into a mattress whenever a child fell or slipped on the floor and nestled the crying child till the mother came running to lift it to console. 

The teachings of the father and the pampering of the mother, the playfulness of sibling rivalries, the bantering of youthful adolescents, the sharing of their love's labor which lost many times while they were growing up before our eyes!

Life changed. We too changed our colors and moods often! The children moved on in their lives, moved to different places for education, and then they built their own nests to lead their own lives. The occasional visit to their parents was a sight for us to behold.  

Stories of families, how they are displaced and yet how they reinvent and rebuild themselves into meaningful and prominent parts of a community, give you hope and resilience. That becomes part of your personal happiness. When you have allowed others to see you, you feel a strange liberation and a power. It opens conversations, creates mysteries and intrigues, and connects you to the world better…. 

My master left the world first and our lovely muse was left alone with her memories as her guard of honor. Then one day, our beautiful newly married bride too decked herself up with past memories and present sorrows and left this world.

 

The children came running to bid her adieu. They rented the house to an orphanage. And thus came a time in our history when we silently cried for the cruel nature of the custodian and the suffering of those innocent girls who were yet to bloom. Then, one day, when the ceiling could no longer bear to witness the custodian’s atrocities, it came crashing down on the vile creature in all fury putting an end to the unspeakable evil he perpetrated. The next day, passers-by saw a big hole in the roof and discovered the dead bodies of the custodian and a few already half-dead children on the floor. Thereafter, no one came nearer to this house, and some even started believing and saying that they heard cries and wails at night! And that was how the last chapter of my story ended and I was stamped as an abandoned house.

   

All around me are the artifacts of a life lived and hastily abandoned, the house stripped of her splendor, dying slowly, creaking in the gusting winds. A house once loved, now abandoned. A house that once lived now receded from life. The spirit of life walked swiftly to the top leaving its footprints behind. The house stood still and so did time! The wind howled and as the door finally slammed shut, presumably by the wind, my eyes were transfixed on the home. When I turned away in disbelief, I head the house whisper “I know…you wouldn't be coming back…..”


This simple Write- up is dedicated to our dear friend Nado, who provided the photo of an abandoned house to inspire me to write something like thissmiley1.

Edited by Viswasruti - 3 days ago
Posted: 10 days ago

 This is among your best work,  simply adore and love this one, what a fascinating and rivetting tale you conjured, depicting the varied emotions the house traversed and experienced till its present state, memories all alive in the now silent, brooding, decaying walls of the house.

 Your tale of a glorious bygone era gravitates between  joy and pathos, which  is a defining feature of human existence, mutability being part of every life on earth. Your mojo is the tryst of your vivid imagination and evocative writing, incredible work of fiction, worthy of applause!!smiley32smiley32smiley32smiley32smiley32

Edited by vibraj - 10 days ago
Posted: 10 days ago

Wah Madi, what a story... a story on an abandoned house. smiley10

I agree with you, the houses breathe.  They carried in their wood and stone, their brick and mortar a kind of ego that was nearly, very nearly, human.  

I always wonder it was a mistake to think of houses, old houses, as being empty. They were filled with memories, with the faded echoes of voices. Drops of tears, drops of blood, the ring of laughter, the edge of tempers that had ebbed and flowed between the walls, into the walls, over the years. Good story Madi, and you dedicated it to our Nado, a well-deserved gift. smiley31smiley32

Posted: 10 days ago

Originally posted by Avyakta


Wah Madi, what a story... a story on an abandoned house. smiley10

I agree with you, the houses breathe.  They carried in their wood and stone, their brick and mortar a kind of ego that was nearly, very nearly, human.  

I always wonder it was a mistake to think of houses, old houses, as being empty. They were filled with memories, with the faded echoes of voices. Drops of tears, drops of blood, the ring of laughter, the edge of tempers that had ebbed and flowed between the walls, into the walls, over the years. Good story Madi, and you dedicated it to our Nado, a well-deserved gift. smiley31smiley32

Actually I cannot put my feeling into words, but Avi echoed my thoughts about your write-up so keep it up Madhusmiley32

Posted: 10 days ago

Originally posted by vibraj


 This is among your best work,  simply adore and love this one, what a fascinating and rivetting tale you conjured, depicting the varied emotions the house traversed and experienced till its present state, memories all alive in the now silent, brooding, decaying walls of the house.

 Your tale of a glorious bygone era gravitates between  joy and pathos, which  is a defining feature of human existence, mutability being part of every life on earth. Your mojo is the tryst of your vivid imagination and evocative writing, incredible work of fiction, worthy of applause!!smiley32smiley32smiley32smiley32smiley32

Actually I cannot put my feeling into words, but Vibha echoed my thoughts about your write-up so keep it up Madhusmiley32

Posted: 10 days ago

Wow...that was really moving. I loved it. It was very interesting to read the story from an inanimate object perspective. You portrayed the feelings of the house so well that I felt sympathy for the house. Your description of the house and trees outside...I felt like I could see them in front of my own eyes! I would love to read more of your work...especially similar pieces to what your wrote here! 

Posted: 9 days ago

Very nice story Madhuri ..

Breathing life into a dilapidated house .....

It reminds me of “ Samay” narrating the Mahabharat .


Posted: 8 days ago

Originally posted by vibraj


 This is among your best work,  simply adore and love this one, what a fascinating and rivetting tale you conjured, depicting the varied emotions the house traversed and experienced till its present state, memories all alive in the now silent, brooding, decaying walls of the house.

 Your tale of a glorious bygone era gravitates between  joy and pathos, which  is a defining feature of human existence, mutability being part of every life on earth. Your mojo is the tryst of your vivid imagination and evocative writing, incredible work of fiction, worthy of applause!!smiley32smiley32smiley32smiley32smiley32

Vibha, I have no words to express my feelings when I first read your review.smiley42 As a writer, with contentment, I cherish your words and as your friend, I am grateful for your appreciation, but as your student, I consider it a distinction equivalent of an Award!smiley4 Thank you for these encouraging words.smiley31

Edited by Viswasruti - 8 days ago

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