The corridor.

It was finally that time of the year, when our family packed out bags and set out for the holy land of Velankanni. This annual trip was something every member of our household looked forward to as it was a chance of reunion with the extended family that we meet only during special occasions. Who doesn’t love a get-together? A good 12 hours of being stuck in a traveler bus and 546 kilometers later, we had finally reached the lodge where we would be spending the next few days of our short stay at the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu. The coffee we drank at the quick pit stops in between had not been of much help as the drowsiness was more than evident on everyone’s faces including that of 3-year-old (adored by everyone as the youngest of the bunch) me. After a few hours of unpacking and settling down it was decided that the time had come for the real purpose of the journey: visiting the church of The Lady of Velankanni. As a Christian household we were very much keen on visiting such pilgrimage sites. Not to state the obvious, but young and helpless me needed aid in everything including dressing up for the evening service at church which is when my mother realized the fact that my clothes were not with her but in the bag that my father had taken hold of, who was in the adjacent room. Unfortunately, my mother made the mistake of sending me alone to the said room as it was just one wall apart. As expected of someone who had only come into existence 3 years before, I couldn’t process what she had said about the location of the room. Without realizing the fact that it was right next door, poor me travelled the stairs and went down to the floor beneath. With no trace of my father I decided to take a detour and roamed pretty much every floor and knocked on every door except that of the one I should have; all while buckets of tears were flowing down my cheeks. Half of the tears were of fear of being lost and half were of the fear of getting scolded by the others; that is if I ever do get found by them because at this point even my underdeveloped brain had comprehended the fact that I was indeed LOST. Before I even realized, there I was half naked and crying up a storm in the corridor of that unfamiliar building. Up until now I don’t think I have ever had a moment in my 18 years of living where I felt so helpless and small in front of this huge world. As luck would have it, a couple of good-hearted strangers heard my alarming cry that echoed through practically the entire building, and I was soon reunited with my dear ones and that was the most relieving moment for both sides. In that short time span I attained one of the most precious lessons of my life; that nothing feels safer than my parents’ arms. That even though I might end up roaming around without a map I will always find a home, my safe place in my family. Written by, Jovitta C S St. Teresa’s College (Autonomous), Ernakulam.