Home is where the party begins

It is where the heart is. But, it is the same place where one nurtures one’s own.

November 03, 2015 01:52 pm | Updated December 09, 2016 08:48 pm IST

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There is something about that loud music — one that reminds you of delirious college day fun. A small group of men and women are singing, raising their off-pitch voices to beat the beats of Akon. Not in a pub or a plush hangout place but inside an apartment complex in Hyderabad.

Their home has the nature of a commune, where hearts meet, lips lock and friends languish in the dead of night. Ideas, love, friendship and more exchange amidst the din in the room that bathed in soft green light. A black and white poster of Kishore Kumar smiling to himself while next to a microphone is plastered on the bedroom wall. The mood is light.

Sitting in that house and sipping on a homemade cocktail, Sreya (name changed), a native of Lucknow speaks of the dream life she is now living, “We rented a house to make ourselves comfortable. As luck would have it we met others here. And now friends come over to share the space and nothing feels more right than this.” Responsibilities are shared in the flat. Each morning, her flatmates take turn and wake one another up. Steaming cups of coffee, quick breakfast and conversations about work and studies await everyone at the wake of dawn. Then there is the rush to go to work or attend classes.

As a thousand voices in the country clamour for tolerance on more than one count, Sreya’s home which houses both men and women, all doing their studies in a culinary college in Hyderabad, represents a remote possibility. That, renting an apartment in a city could also translate to finding a place of comfort where societal norms can be tried, tested and sometimes discarded.

Home, for the young, is that healing place where lives are as shared as lived. Here, weekends mean 'spirit'ed fun, conversations, song, dance and adrenaline rush; all this, without going through the pangs of being judged or intimidated.

 

In Hyderabad, some residential localities rent out apartments to a floating population of students and working men and women. In these spacious, yet affordable homes, life is lived easy. Residential areas like the Sindhi Colony in Secunderabad, the software employee rich Madhapur and houses in Begumpet, provide a harbour of comfort where landowners are seldom nosy and neighbours less inquisitive.

In such localities single men and women renting houses is considered common. Freedom of choosing one’s own way of life doesn't get questioned. Coming home after a night out in a pub or a night shift at work is met with nonchalance. On roads, women are not teased or attacked and men’s ‘intentions’ are not questioned when they entertain consensual relationships. And yes, premarital sex is not taboo. For feminists and social scientists, garish existence in such places offers a welcome change. K. Lalitha, a writer and feminist says, “It is easy to look at this with suspicion. But if we live in a society we should get ourselves to like the fact that youth today are finding their own ways of living lives.”

As this blog gets written, the blogger — one among the many who scouted for a cool place to stay — is surrounded by a whirlpool of sounds from the wonderland outside her two-bedroom apartment. A midweek party has started at a home where Adele is being played. “We could have had it all...Rolling in the deep.” Over the enticing lyrics, dinner is being discussed. As the night progresses, the party is infused with more and more life.

In such places, people are not purposely defiant. They are naturally so. “As I went house hunting I didn't think of getting an all female team of flatmates. But when some of us, male and female friends, wanted to move in no one asked questions. What is better than living in a place where moral policing does not touch your home,” says Jasna, a trainer working for a software company close to Madhapur, as she sat comfortably in her two bedroom apartment in the same locality. Over the weekend her friends discuss grocery shopping. On some days they discuss theory as Foucault and Derrida play on their minds before they get back to work.

These near egalitarian places have a different feel. As you walk through Doyen’s Colony in Gachibowli, you see men and women sitting on the neatly done pavements, some reading newspaper, listening to music or talking over the phone. One can breeze through these localities without catching even an inquisitive glance. “Most people who rent apartments here are those from other states who migrate to Hyderabad for studies. When a man and a woman want to rent out an apartment the landlord here does not look at the wannabe tenants quizzically,” says Madhumita Dalal, a part time book editor and student in a city university.

As the saying about private spaces goes, home is where the heart is. But, home is also the place where one nurtures one’s own. Discarding localities where house owners turn them down for a gamut of reasons including single status, religion, caste or community, the youth in the city have managed to set up cozy homes in spaces that are accommodative. Painted in bright colours, the walls in their houses retain a sanity that the rest of the world lacks.

In Homeplace (a site of resistance) , the Black American writer and feminist, bell hooks (she insists on this lower-case style) writes about black women making their homes a place that countered racism. Homeplace, “was about the construction of a safe place where black people could affirm one another and by doing so heal many of the wounds inflicted by racist domination,” hooks writes. In a different, yet comparable context, the youth in metros too search for a protective commune. For women and men who could otherwise face scorn for wanting to live under the same roof, their homes in city’s liberal localities become spaces of safety and security.

In such localities, when the doors shut, one shuts out catcalls and vile jokes. Here one does not stand answerable to societal inquisitions and judgements.

As I punch away on the keyboard, Kishore Kumar’s seductive voice rains over the apartment complex where I live. Someone who got home late is finally letting her hair down. “ Inteha ho gayi intezaar ki ” the song plays on a laptop in an adjacent home. Tonight, even the apartment roof which gives as an overview of Hussain Sagar Lake has occupants. Some residents have spread a blanket to sit on and gaze at the stars. In this silent night, the old Hindi number soothes all. “ Aayi na kuchch khabar mere yaar ki… phir vajah kya hui intezaar ki...

Perhaps this night, the residents in the apartment would have collective dreams as love, lust and freedom takes tangible shapes. Perhaps, that’s how nights are in communes.

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