In ways more than one, this bell, has stood at the gate.

Every visitor to our home has to pass through its majestic beam & distinct clang. Every visitor rings the bell to announce his or her arrival. Particularly appealing, was the fact that every visitor could create his or her own music according to the way in which he or she pulled the string !

Like the good old times !!!

And everybody did so. The naughty child who wants to clamour on to his fathers shoulder just to create music . The newspaper vendor who is in a hurry, but just wants to announce the papers’ delivery. The milk vendor. The old relative. The young student. Me. My brother. Friends. The pharmacists. Mere Acquaintances. Etc. Etc. All types.

In a way, the bell has witnessed all the entrys and exits at home. The entry & eixits of all house hold helps. The debtors. Creditors. Health. Wealth. People. Possessions.

Standing mute spectator or musical announcer. My marriage. My brother’s marriage. Listless times. Hospital times. Energetic times. My moving to Bangalore. And now to Mumbai.The bell has stood its ground !

Everytime the gate opened for the car or the bike to drive in, the bell would chime. And i would caress the outer brass, just to feel the distinct low chime ! The bell at the gate seemed welcoming to me. Never faltering. Always welcoming.

And that perhaps has been a philosophy that we have tried practicing: To stay welcoming. Of change, of people, their ideas, opinions and quirks. Far from successful, the effort continues, with the good old bell, singing a pole star rhyme!

Today, for some reason, the bell seems to beckon. The old chime & the music of the caress wake me up in the middle of the night. The chime seems to have travelled all the distance to Mumbai !

Perhaps the bell is missing me. Perhaps it seeks the caress of my finger & recreate that music ‘those’ times. Perhaps its time to create new music with the old bell !

Perhaps its time to go home for a while.