Why grandparents aren't allowed to live in apartments

Recently, my parents talked about shifting to an apartment from their independent house and my heart missed a beat. It wasn’t just because of memories associated with the house. It was also for the fact that my 4 year old daughter would not be able to experience life in an independent house. We live in an apartment. My parents-in-law recently shifted from a house with large outdoors to an apartment.  There is something about an independent house which an apartment lacks. Maybe character? Where and how would my daughter experience the joys of an independent house? Besides, grandparents living in an apartment just doesn't sound right!!

When I was her age, I spent my summer vacations at my maternal grandparents’ sprawling house. It was a labyrynthine haveli with rooms that had exotic sounding names like ‘baradari’, ‘chaubara’, ‘tibari’, ‘jharokha’ and ‘darikhana’. A gala time awaited us from the moment we disembarked from rickshaw. Right from playing with cousins in different rooms and rooftops of the haveli to sleeping on terrace at night, I relished every moment of my stay. The haveli was said to be 150 years old and had fascinating stories about tunnels, ghosts, hidden treasures and bygone luxuries, which kept us suitably mystified through long summer days and provided grist to our gossip mill in nights. The house was so big that it was an ordeal in itself to find and collect us all during meal times.

Visits to my paternal grandparents’ place were a memorable experience of a different nature. It was a small town and the house was rustic where floors needed a cow dung and mud plaster every 15 days. A couple of rooms were dedicated to storing hay. In summers, cart loads of mangoes would land in those haystacks. Imagine eating bucketful of mangoes for breakfast and competing with cousins to throw mango pits the farthest. We kids had a fantastic time. Then there was a well in our compound and it fascinated me no end. I loved the sound of pail going splash when it hit the surface, the glug it made when tilted and the rush of water once it started filling. Pulling up the heavy bucket was hard work and a cousin was always around to give my little hands a helpful tug. The water was incredibly cool and refreshing. A couple of turtles called the well their home and it was an added bonus to spot them. Here again, the days were spent playing both indoor and outdoor games with cousins and neighbors or reading comics. The highlight of the trip for me, however, was a visit to our fields. Mango laden trees, a ride in a bullock cart, a shower at tube well, a picnic in picturesque fields, were all a treat to the senses.

My parents’ current house, though very pretty, is not that exotic and neither is it full of cousins for my daughter. In fact, she is the only kid around when she visits them. Large families gone, large houses are bound to follow suit. Why am I so hung up on a big, independent house then? Some contemplation led to enlightenment. A large, independent house is the last vestige of that joie de vivre which was a hallmark of joint families. I miss that feeling of being in a joint family, albeit for vacations and knowing that those times are not going to come back, I think I am just stuck on the symbolism!

This post was published in 'Right in the middle' section of Deccan Herald.
http://www.deccanherald.com/content/544004/grand-old-symbol.html