Memories and shadows of the past keep on following you; however you try to escape into the world of a different reality. He was also not an exception. When the car was stopped, he suddenly realized that it was his home. He slowly unlocked the door and stepped out. His slow walk towards his house was not because of some newly developed circumstances: it was often the result of the remembrance of the days of festivals which he used to celebrate with his parents back home. His eyes seemed to be weighing his house: a big white house, white tiles decorating the façade, two big doors in front, a chandelier shedding light from the broad window of the first floor front room. It was definitely a very beautiful house, surrounded by a small garden.

He felt proud seeing that house, but at the same time a pain erupted from his mind because the house was not in India. He wished he had that same house in India and his friends would admire his hard work, not without certain envy. It is inevitable thought that comes into every Asian mind when he or she makes it big in any of the western countries.

He turned around. His son was taking parcels out of the car. The road was deserted. The November evening betokened the arrival of winter. The leaves on the trees around the house were changing colours and dropping down onto the ground. People were confined in their houses but the sudden sound of a passing vehicle brought lights out of some of the windows. The heart that was delighted to see the splendor of his own house was a bit depressed seeing the houses around. It was the day of Diwali, the festival of lights in India, but not even a single lamp was lit here to mark the occasion. The only light visible was the mild rays of the dying sunlight.

His son Ramesh picked the last of the bags from the car and walking towards the house said,” Papa, come in soon, or you will catch cold.”

With tired steps he left the garage and entered the house. In an instant he folded his hands towards the left side where they had their temple. Then he moved to his right and kept his bag on the table. He spread his coat over the back of the chair and seated himself. He felt as if he had been living alone in this game of light and darkness for years. The arrival of evenings often frightened him; perhaps he realized his real existence that he felt an outsider in his own house. The loneliness of the transient silence was too much to bear.