Essay: A eulogy to the house I grew up in by Ramsheena

Ramsheena shares a personal essay reflecting on the profound connection between the house she grew up in as a child and her identity. 

It wasn’t exactly on a hill but perched on a slope. There was a climb involved, and as a kid, it felt like scaling a hill. My grandfather insisted on walking and my fondness for walks began with all that distance I walked with him. I’d secretly tease him, calling him stingy for not taking rickshaws. We walked often, back and forth from my parents’ house to my grandmother‘s house. The house which we ironically called Thayepora, a blend of ‘Thaye,’ meaning ‘down,’ and ‘pora,’ meaning ‘house’ in Malayalam was located slightly above the mud road. To get there, we had to leave the main road, cross a creaky wooden bridge, and stroll across a huge paddy field.