Our understanding of home-making is deeply rooted in our past experiences of dwelling. Our personal stories, which we often tend to forget in the everydayness of life, significantly shape our intimate sense of home. Homemakers strive to achieve a sense of belonging in a new place, battling the feeling of not-at-home/homelessness - a feeling that I have struggled with too, especially when I moved out of my mom's home and took on the role of a homemaker. I must admit, I find the act of homemaking quite tricky—struggling to determine what kind of atmospheres, contexts, and objects enable me to be “me”.
In my grandma's house, the bedroom window overlooked the central courtyard, where she placed a chullah (handmade stove in Indian culture). I was always glued to peeping through the window of the small bedroom situated right in front of the courtyard, sitting horizontally next to my sleeping younger brother on the bed, my back pressed against the wall. It was an awkward yet pleasing position to sit in, watching the activities around the chullah. I don't remember sitting like this ever as I grew older. I always had bedside tables arranged in a "picture-perfect" bedroom setup, with beautiful lamps placed on it providing ambient light- possibly representing an example of a perfectly dwelled bedroom.
However, when I moved to the UK and settled into my current house, the bed was unintentionally arranged in a similar way—adjacent to the wall to make space for a study table at the end of the room. I often find myself sitting in the same position as I did in my childhood. This time, I am not looking at the chullah but at the tree outside, with its beautiful flowers and leaves swaying in the breeze, witnessing the changing seasons as I sip my morning tea. This familiar sitting position takes me back to my grandma's house, reminiscing about the heart of that home—the aangan (open courtyard)—where all the women, even those of the extended family, would gather to cook, a ritual I have never witnessed again.
It is strange to be reminded of this scenario now, after almost 20 years, by simply sitting in that same position. Can it be said that experiencing a not-so-ideal dwelling scenario is one way to achieve the art of dwelling? But is dwelling really an art?
The act of dwelling is complex because we are constantly trying to understand how to live comfortably in our spaces, which can be perceived as a science. Simultaneously, we strive to make our homes aesthetically pleasing, which makes it an art. This dual nature of home-making frames the philosophy of dwelling as a cultural entity. If home-making is considered an art, then art is what gives culture immortality. And as Martin Heidegger suggests, we must constantly enquire our existence in this world. By truly understanding who we are and how we exist, we can give rise to spaces that speak of “us”.