We’re back on the tenth floor of this apartment building. The tiles on the bathroom floor are coming apart. The extra room still reeks of termite poison. We have the smallest TV screen among all the people we know. We are instantly reminded of the bills we have to pay. And it looks like Irfan is feeling lonely after almost two weeks surrounded by lots of family.
But it’s home sweet home.
The computer is set up just the way I like it so that when it was activated the setup felt so welcoming. Irfan is quite literally swimming in his books (which he rummaged from his book table, much to Ain’s chagrin), and, to anyone who understands what this means, Ain had a fantastic hour sweeping the floor of the house.
It was a great holiday, now it’s back to work for all of us.
There might have been a lot of worthwhile lessons that we’ve learnt over the last week and a half or so… but the only one that sticks to my mind right now is that when I started strumming the guitar at Abah’s house, Irfan interjected happily: