All life needs and occupies space—space for the first leaf to sprout and space for turning in at nightfall. What kind of spaces do we live in and call home? Beetles claim scorching dunes, peepul claims cracks in the walls, pigeons nest anywhere pigeon-ly possible. Who all do we live with? We reclaim the bathroom from the lizards, negotiate sleep with the neighbour’s laundry bat, carry thousands of microbes in our body, and it goes on and on. We live and co-live, move and rest within all kinds of spaces. These spaces ‘come alive’ with colours and textures, sounds and smells, and we call them ours. In My Home Holds Us All, Siddhi Vartak weaves the many such aspects of a home.
A bustling urban basti greets on the first page. Intricately detailed roofs and fixtures, water tanks and antennas, herons perched on the pillars, the mosque top with loudspeakers and orange flying festoons leave one transfixed… Bela calls it all her home! The book then moves on to glimpses of the basti in warmth invoking colours and thoughtful perspectives. Her home is quiet or noisy, dark or sunlit, dry or wet and has colours of all kinds. Dampness and pickles do tease one’s olfactory sense, but it’s otherwise missed! As the text describes the home in various contrasts, a game runs in the pictures, revealing itself only in the end with a ‘dhappa!’
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