Bedroom Talks of Another Kind

I remember lying my head on the lap of my amachi (maternal grandmother) like a small puppy after a solid meal of biryani. It was my favorite thing to do after a meal at our family gatherings. My mother scolded me for lying on my grandmother's lap even though I was a grown ass teenager. It didn't matter because Amachi defended me and stroked my head lovingly.

It had become a habit since I was a child. I used to lie my head on her lap and pretend that I was asleep as I listened to the flow of conversations. This was where I learnt about the world of people and their affairs. After a while, I would switch to the lap of one of my aunts since Amachi would get tired.

Sitting on and around the bed (Amachi's throne) were my mother, my aunt, my cousin sisters and brothers. My father and uncles occupied the living room, discussing politics, cars, traffic, finance, and the stock market. Things that I found extremely BORING!

The bedroom was a different kind of place. It was entertaining! A space of spicy conversations that ranged from naughty childhood stories, delicious gossip, expressive opinions, and funny debates between my mother and her other four sisters. The rest of us children remained silent, listened, and laughed as though mesmerized by these conversations.

It was rare for all of us to be in the same room since life was busy. In the bedroom, everyone came alive. It was a space where everyone felt safe because all of us stretched out in a post-coma state.

The bedroom was also the panchayat where many serious family conflicts were resolved and settlements were made.

At other times, the bedroom became a gallery of sorts as my mother and aunts showcased the gifts that they had purchased for one another. It was the place where Amachi placed her hands on our heads and blessed us.

Once my grandmother had passed away, this tradition of the bedroom persevered.

Now that I have grown older, I seem to be doing the same thing with my family and friends. We get comfortable on the bed and let the conversation flow. It feels warm, vulnerable, intimate, and safe. It's funny how we, as the next generation, carry these tiny traditions with us like small candles of light.

I wonder if this is the same for other people out there who have their own little pockets of spaces in their homes that are filled with love and memories. Whatever it is, I am deeply grateful that I was able to experience a space of love with my family.