the non-existent house

it does not exist any more...
yes, there is a multi-storey building in its place, which made more economic sense to the five sons and two daughters of one Mr Ganguly who built this house after marrying off one of his daughters in 1956, keeping away money for the wedding of his younger daughter who was still studying...
a good part of my childhood was spent in this house... i am a grand child of Mr Ganguly... no i haven't seen him, since he passed away five years before i was born... but i have seen the huge oil paintings of him, his wife (whom i have seen and am told resemble a lot, my grandmom, my Mom's mom), his ancestors and his wife's ancestors in the high-ceilinged house that he built...
part of our (my bro's and mine) summer vacations and winter vacations were spent in this house... it had two huge balconies, one on each floor... the floor was of red cement, shining red, with black borders... there was a well-kept lawn in front of the house and a well at one corner, where we, the grandchildren, took bath, on days we wanted to be different from the other days...
mornings at this house were different than those at our home... it began early with tea, crisp toast and butter, with All India Radio to match the grandfather clock that was in the hall, with merun sofa...
the sun came in all brilliance from the large open windows, with dark curtains which were tied neatly by Mr Ganguly's third daughter in law... it is her husband, my third maternal uncle, their son (who still stays with his family now in one of the flats in the apartment) and daughter who stayed in that house from the day it was made till the day it was broken down for some money that the siblings, My Ganguly's children, had agreed on with a builder...
after a hurried round with the newspaper, my two uncles went for bath, had breakfast, carried lunch and were off to work, leaving the house to their families and us, the occasional pampered visitors...
my Mom was happiest when here... she became carefree and went out leaving us with cousins, aunts and foremost, our grandmom, whose smell i can still get if i think hard... Dad would come to drop us off and pick us up after a scheduled number of days...
i still dream of this house... how we fought on the balconies, how we played hide and seek, how we watched the sun set and planned the next day...
and as the dream wares out and i wake, i feel a pang in my heart...
Mr Ganguly, Mrs Ganguly... i too feel the pain that your children could not keep your dream house intact...

PS: i am the child of the daughter who was not yet married when Mr Ganguly built this house in 1956.