The same old creaking sound of the gate greets me and looking down the pathway on which I've done a thousand and one things and more brings an ear-to-ear grin to my face . Seeing my mom stand at the door sends the fatigue of the journey flying . My heart does a little somersault and gives itself a high five as I go in and notice all the minute changes since I've last been here . More importantly , I take comfort from all those familiar unchanged objects , in their same old places , all those tiny nooks and corners , embracing in their intimacy . The same old teddy staring from atop the television . Mr.Laughing Buddha smiling at me from the bookshelf . Lord Venketeshwara keeping an eye on me from the walls of my bedroom . The unkempt garden at the back of the house . My brother , sister , grandpa and last but not the least , Mr.Sols , my pseudo-brother . Even as I unpack my luggage , strong coffee smell wafts into the room , the familiar red nescafe cup in my mom's hands . I settle comfortably into the sofa and spread out The Hindu , M S Subbalakshmi's voice singing the Suprabatham in the background .
Ah , finally , back home again .
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