The Room

There was one room in our grandmother's house that was different.
It was a big house with many rooms, big and small.
And each room was used by our family.
Except this one room.

The room somehow did not belong.
It was almost like it did not want to belong to the house.
It was big. So had its own entrance door as well.
And over time, the room with its bed, sofa, almirah, dresser became isolated and unused.

Till my  mother took over.
Every time we would visit , my mother would spend hours in the room.
Change the curtains. Move the furniture around.
Make the bed see the sunlight.
Keep the curtains drawn back so that the room could see the rest of the house.
And feel part of it.
She lined the entrance to the room with beautiful plants. So that the entrance looked like part of the house and not a divide.
She played music in the room and made us spend time there, sleep there.

Soon the room became our favourite.
The walls carried our childhood crayon painted memories.
We would have our meals there as well instead of the dining room, as a special treat.

Sometimes, I think of that room.
All it took was perseverance and belief.
To keep trying till the room belonged.
To make it part of the larger house.

Maybe sometimes we give up too soon.....