Standing in the twilight of life, memories crowd upon us a like tide, of the home with wooden beam ceiling, rough stone floor and their green fences, where we stayed together, embracing one another in all the weathers. Yes, the home was in Nilokheri, a nondescript place in Haryana, rented on a princely sum where my father was a professor in the Government Polytechnic and my mother, a headmistress in school. But my story is not about'house' but 'home' where we were at home. Three sides of a triangle we sisters were, always on an adventurous spree. Now I feel, how time flies without decree! Then from Nilokheri, we shifted to Ambala. In Ambala, we moved from our rented house to another, till we had our own home, an emblem of our identity. Moving from one house to another was always a miserable affair.
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