In our home I have a small private space. MY ROOM. As I am an introvert I hardly have a friend to share my stories of success and failure. It is in the privacy of my room, I feel most relaxed. This is where I give vent to my anger and frustration. The inert room occasionally breathes life starting a dialogue with me. The walls come alive whispering. Every little space of the room holds memory-memories that are integrated with my being. I grew up nurturing those memories. Pragmatism then gives way to emotion. My parents and relatives were lured by the greed for easy money to hand over the property to a developer. The promoter launches a project to build up a housing complex on our property. The day the deal was finalized, I wept silently. No one could realize what passed through my mind. It was just not the loss of a room, it was the loss of my being. That little room which was my world turned upside down.
