Posted by: akilamoni | July 22, 2006


I kept telling myself- never get attached to any place. And just when I was almost successful at doing that, I came home.

At first is all the exhilaration of having come to the place I grew up, spent most of my life.

Then comes the state where I get used to being a fixture in that place and before I realise time flies and throws me back to where it all began. Its time to leave.
I was on the phone with a friend. He felt it was too noisy a location wherever I was standing. I was parked on the landing of the stairs. I told him I was in my favourite spot.

The space is shielded with a heavy iron door leading to a gate, both of which are always locked. On to my right is the stairs and behind me is the door to the ground floor.
Countless have been the days when I used to give the slip to people- I used to tell them,or rather announce ” Am going upstairs”, close the door and just stand there leaning on the iron door. The iron door had a fabrication a few inches at the top from which I could view the outside world. Being the shortest in the family, my height was never considered for anything- right from height at which mirrors were to be fixed to fabrications on iron doors!
And that was my favourite spot. The spot from where I watched people go by. All kinds of people- of whom I knew nothing, something to everything.The place was the perfect hiding place from the world. It was almost like an attic where I was staying under cover because I could watch the people pass by and no one would even notice me for only my eyes were visible from outside.
I made up imaginary conversations in my head, made up character sketches of people passing by, caricatures formed in my head about the neighbours.It was my very own story board.
I have stood there, innumerable hours, on the phone talking to people and simulatneously watching people pass by, carrying out duties of their mundane life.

Daddies dropping girlies at the school bus stop, teenagers chatting up just before they part ways, auto drivers wasting their life on the pretext of waiting for customers, aunties on their way to the temple, fighting couples, the cheap uncle in the opposite house, childhood friends who are now all grown up- all the mundane stuff.

It was the perfect spot to answer phone calls when guests came visiting(the kinds who want to know every single detail of what you do), share a secret with a friend over the phone. It was the best place to cry. With no lights on, no one could see me cry and with the door closed no one could hear me whimper. That spot where I was all alone in the midst of everyone . Visible and yet invisible.

As I stood there today, I wished I could carry that spot with me wherever I go. My spot where I can just be, like a fly on the wall, not disturbing anything around me and watch whatever is happening around me, shielded with so many doors that protect me from the world outside- the world I watched with like watching a film through a peep hole. My very own invisible cloak. If only I could take it wherever I go and watch the world pass by around me.

If only…..



  1. wrote this blog from the spot???

  2. Do the thing that dieters do, take a picture of it and look at it whenever you feel nostalgic. For better resutls take various angles and poistion them around the room. It will be like hanging a picture of malai kofta and being satisfied with tofu in gravy 😉

  3. This piece is absolutly fabulous. I havent visited your blog in a while and reading this piece was really good. Felt like I was skimming through the pages of an RK Narayanan novel!!!

    — From a person who was an integral part of the “spot”

  4. @anon:
    getting that from u is like my biggest compliment ever….

    thanks pal….

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