HOME SWEET HOME There is nothing in the world as sweet as a home.

East or West, home is the best as the saying goes. Home is the symbol of human togetherness- a place where all of us learn the first steps of life. For most people the very thought of home brings fond memories, nostalgic feelings and sad emotions. My home is situated in a suburb called Gandhi Nagar in the city of Guwahati, the capital of Assam. I was born in this city although my parents have migrated to the place due to service and occupation. As for me, I feel a part and parcel of the city and consider it as my hometown. The locality where I live falls within the periphery of Guwahati Club, one of the major commercial centres of the city and is noted for its educational institutions, Sports facilities and green surroundings. My house is only a few yards from this commercial centre. The area is inhabited mostly by government servants, high-ranking officials and bureaucrats My house is situated at the side of a bye-lane leading to Guwahati club. It is a two-storied building constructed by my father about ten years ago. The top floor has been rented out. The ground floor, which we use, has four bedrooms, a drawing room part which also serves as a dinning room, a kitchen and a bathroom. My brother and myself share a room, while a room has been given to my elder sister. The third room which is the largest room in the house is used by our parents while the fourth room is kept as a guest room. All the living rooms have floor carpets, while the drawing room where we entertain our guests and watch T.V. has marble floor and an artistically carved showcase. The showcase contains numerous trophies, beautiful mementos and several attractive handicraft exhibits.

The house has a little porch in front where my father keeps his car. The portion between the porch and the road is used for gardening, which is taken care of by my mother. There is a small patch of land behind the house which is used fo r cultivation of vegetables and for dumping of scraps and useless articles of the house.

As the area is inhabited by senior government servants, the houses here have posh surroundings, high security wall, lively gardens and huge front gates. Being very close to one of the nerve-centres of the city, we are fortunate to have all the facilities such as, markets, schools, hospitals, banks etc. The High Court, Railway station, Reserve Bank, Museum, Public library, Sports Stadium, etc. are all within a walk able distance. I have a brother and a sister. My eldest brother is studying in Cotton College, the famed college of the city, while I study in Don Bosco School. My sister studies in St. Marys school which stands a few metres away from our home. My father is an under secretary and works in the Govt. Secretariat at Dispur while my mother is a senior lecturer in a Commerce college in the city. My home is a happy home. We the children love our parents and they in turn do all they can to make our life cheerful, enjoyable and least burdensome. We care for each other and do our very best to make our home a happy and a sweet home.

HOME SWEET HOME Most people dont understand the concept of a home. For some, its just a building with a roof and four walls surrounding you. I used to be one of those people who would classify their home as just a pile of wood. But my cross-country journey would make me see that a home is much more than that. It showed me the real meaning of home sweet home.

I was born and raised in the greatest city of the world, New York City. There, on the 3rd floor of 4076 Woodside Ave in Queens, NY, I had my first encounter with a home, but as a baby, you cant really say anything; you don't really understand any concepts. Then we moved out to the suburbs, in Hempstead, Long Island. There I grew up in a nice house with a white picket fence, a nice green yard, and a basketball court in the back. I would live there until I was fifteen, then, just a few months after I moved again. This time I moved in with my brother here in Henderson. That was when the torture started.

I was still upset with the whole idea of me moving from my hometown. I missed having my friends around to hangout with and I missed my old high school. Everything around me was foreign and I didn't feel like I belonged. As one would imagine it wasnt very easy for me to fit in. All I wanted was to go back home, to my white picket fence, my nice yard and my basketball court. But even then I didn't learn my lesson. I still yearned for the objective things that I thought were a home. I wasn't content with having to share a room and not being able to have my own space. But after a couple of months my dad bought a house down the block, adjacent from my brothers house. I remember walking up to this new home and feeling sort of a connection. I finally had my own space and my own room. Theres no white picket fence, no basketball court but there was a nice yard with a Jacuzzi. And here in this house is where I would spend the next three years of my academic life, or so I thought.

After the end of my junior year we moved again to North Carolina. There were many reasons for this move but I felt like I had lost everything all over again. All the friends I finally made were quickly taken away from me after I just got settled into my new environment. So here I was again, packing all my belongings once more carrying box after box down stairs into the moving truck and annoyed with the fact that I had to go through this process all over again. Then finally we were on the road, driving four days and nights to hickville Clayton, North Carolina. When we got to my sisters house, it was July 4th but the irony of it was that it was the beginning of my end. I had to spend six agonizing months there. That was it; I honestly thought I screwed up, that this time there would be no redemption.

I kept thinking that I didn't want to live here. Sure I was back on the east coast but not where I wanted to be. In a sick twist of fate I got my wish from two years ago but it only took me a second to realize the mistakes I made. Everyday I woke up hating this place even more and it didnt help that my sisters house was in the middle of nowhere, or that she would to make my life a living hell. Her house was a Golden Cage and she the devil incarnate. This was the start of my awakening so to speak. I wanted to get away from this hellhole. I even wished I hadnt said I wanted to leave Nevada all those years ago. I had problems everywhere, especially at school. I didn't really make any friends and my lunch period was spent just eating my food and going back to class, no mingling in between.

The longer this cycled continued on, my mind was starting to wrap itself around the idea that I might never go back, that I lost everything just because of some stupid decisions. Now more than ever I was desperate when finally there came a ray of hope. Our house in Nevada was never technically sold. All I had to do was endure until January for us to go back. And so I did, but that time purposely didn't go by quickly. Day after day I kept a count until finally the sacred day was upon us. We started loading up the U-haul truck box after box. The smell and touch of moving was so familiar to me and

I believed I received my second chance. Once we were loaded up we hit the road again but this time four days and four nights on the road sounded great so long as I got back home. The familiar scenery of ever road excited me the closer we got to our destination. Soon the vegetation started to change and I knew I wasnt on the east coast anymore.

When finally, after so much time, I could honestly say I was home. I walked through my house, up the stairs and into my room. I felt happier than I ever felt before and I realized most people do get a second chance. That not everything you lose, you lose for good. I understood more than ever the meaning of a home. It wasnt this empty house and room like most would think. It was home because I was happy, because I felt like I belonged here. Home is where the heart is and I believe that now. And an experience like that makes you value things a little bit more, because as long as you have a home to call your own you know you belong somewhere.

HOME SWEET HOME Home! Home! There is no other places like home. This saying always makes a deep impression on my mind whenever I think of it.

My home is the sweetest, the loveliest and the best place in the world. In spite of its shabbiness, I still prefer it to any beautiful places on the globe. I would sacrifice all the comforts and luxuries of a modern building in a distant place in exchange for the simple dwelling place, my sweet home!

Fancy we are away from home for a long time. How can we forget the place where we were born and brought up in the tenderness and love of our beloved mother? Nothing cannot prevent us from recalling pleasant and cozy evenings spent by the fireplace during winter beside our dear ones. We are tied to our home by bonds of affection and love: our mother is always ready to accede to our wishes and look after our daily needs, and our father willing to sacrifice everything to make us happy and comfortable.

All people, in any case, in any places or in whatever position they may be, once far from their homes, are expecting to return to their warm hearths. The very thought of home fills them with deep emotion and serene bliss. They are looking forward to enjoying the cozy atmosphere of their families, seeing their relatives, their friends and their playmates again. The famous sycamore in front of the house, the lake alive with fish and radiant with lotus flowers are closely associated with their early childhood.

Uncle Ho, after many years of exile and imprisonment in China, after his release when reaching our boundary, picked up a piece of earth in his hand, kissed it and cried with joy. The sailors, sailing across the sea, foster bright hopes of returning to their sweet homes on land, the warriors fighting the enemies in the battlefield are equally attached to the bracing atmosphere of their homeland.

In fact, a man, whatever his occupation may be, loves his hearth and home tenderly. It is his cradle, his nursery, his school and his paradise on earth.