As a civil engineer and as a being with the sixth sense, I have my own little theories. Theories especially about houses, stack of houses, shops, in general almost all buildings. I mostly avoid discussing it with other people lest they enquire about my mental well being.
Being a civil engineer in a non metro city tends to leave one jobless whenever the economy goes down or stagnates or whenever the people in it are content. In order to overcome this joblessness, I started working as a broker, helping people to get houses for rents, leases, or forever. This way, I came to know about houses of all age groups and kinds. Young, old, too vintage, too old to be demolished, half demolished, somewhere in between, keeps updating, retains the the way it was built, seen many wars, withstood many dynasties, seen too many good occasions, seen too many bad occasions, took many years to build, was built too quick, young and foolish, old and wise, economical, prosperous, killer ones, nature lovers, nature haters, only trees tolerant, full of creepers, human haters, non occupant haters, open book, anything you name it. So, whenever I suggest a house, I try my maximum to match the house with it's occupants so as to reduce the conflict level.
It is my belief that, as long as the connection between the living mother Earth and the houses exist, houses too have lives. The have their own feelings. They have creaky wooden planks that can never be set right, windows that cannot be closed, chirping of insects at night, damp walls whose water source can never be found, hollow tiles, holes whose origin and depth can never be contemplated, above all these, the smell. Yes, smell. Smell of the house is something one tends to notice immediately. Most of the time, it smells like it's occupants. Just shut the house for a few days and you will know the real smell of the house. The smell of it's original inhabitants. Maybe it's of the early owners or the ones who built it with their sweat and blood.
Almost a month ago, an old lady in the neighbourhood passed away. I was there at her funeral. I pitied her much. There was not a living soul of her blood who attended the funeral. It was said that her two sons were abroad and there was no way to contact them. The old lady was very respected in the city and so it was surprising that she maintained no contact with her sons nor they with her. After the funeral, most of her belongings were auctioned except for the house and the furniture. There was quite a lot of toys. Most of them from the 50's. Rubber toys, dolls with rubber face and plush bodies, hand stitched dolls with scary faces, mechanical toys, rocking chairs, the entire potato head family, mechanical music boxes, slinky dogs, barbies in plaid skirts, and many more. More surprising was the fact that they were all in good condition. I thanked my mom within my heart. If it wasn't for her yard sales, I believe that, at day of my funeral, there would be another coffin besides mine for all my broken and disfigured toys! After the auction, the keys to the old lady’s mansion was handed over to me. It was decided to use the revenue from the mansion for the well being of the city's inhabitants.
Months later, a considerably young fellow came to the city on the account of his job. As there was no house at hand, I had to take to the old lady’s mansion. We passed through the overgrown lawn into the house. As I opened the door, I felt a wave of awe pass through me. The house smelled old and of roses. Maybe the old lady’s favourite perfume. I toured the house for my client. I was extremely surprised by the stillness of the house. It felt as if the house was holding back it's breath. It made me wonder how the house was going to take it’s new inhabitant. I have it as my policy, not to speak of the previous owners to the succeeding ones. The fellow liked the mansion. And so the deal was made. The transactions were complete. Still, the stillness prevailed. I watched him for sometime as he unpacked his belongings. Then with a word of goodbye, I left.
The very next day, he called me, the first thing in the morning. I rushed there immediately. His eyes showed every sign of sleeplessness.
“Did an old lady occupy this house before me?” he asked way too anxious.
“Yes.” I replied with a doubtful tone.
“Thought so.” he murmured.
“Is something wrong, sir?”
“Everything is! This house behaved like a monster. Drafts of air came in from all directions. Insects were chirping inside my ears. Above all, I had only a few minutes sleep. Even in that, I kept seeing a faceless old woman!” he uttered in a single breath.
I had to make him some coffee, cool him down, talk to him as scientifically as possible. (Yeah, I do not bring my personal beliefs into business. I tend to keep them separate.) I convinced him at last. Wished him the best and walked towards the door. The house was somewhat normal in comparison to the previous day. A gentle breeze blew through the house.
As I opened the door, I heard the soft music of a mechanical music box. I somehow felt like patting the house and whispering to it, ‘I know how it feels, I have lost my dear ones too. He will take good care of you! Don't cry.’
I didn't do it as it would be considered ridiculous. I walked towards my car with a heavy heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment