We have shifted to another flat. It is almost as big as the last one. The only difference is that the bedroom is comparatively smaller and living room is spacious. When we shifted everything was easily arranged by the guys who helped us with shifting except my corner table. A small white wooden table which used to be in my bedroom. It had only three things on it : a handmade pen stand, a vase for fresh flowers and a pile of four-five books. This space was my escape in the house.
The day we shifted, my corner table was being tossed from one room to another. And I kept pleading : please let me have my table in my bedroom.
" Mom you don't have any spare corner in your new bedroom." said my elder son.
"Yes, you can have it in your kitchen." interrupted my husband.
"Why don't you have it in the balcony? We can also use it for study after school." suggested my elder son again.
"Mom can I have it in my room? I will make it a super human spacecraft machine." my younger son hopped in the discussion.
"It is my table please!" I almost screamed.
"Mita see how you talk like a child. What is this about My Table? Haan! You are a mother of two grown up kids. If they want this table why don't you let them have it. We don't even have enough space in our bedroom."
said my husband with a 'final announcement' kind of tone.
I had given up.
"Okay mom let us have this table in the living room now. We can all use it. " another wicked suggestion came from my elder son.
And finally the corner table was decorated in the center of living room. Nobody actually uses it now. And I am trying to find another place again...
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