It’s just before dinnertime at my shared student house and all of us are in. Steady beats of techno set the background to the sounds of an ordinary evening at home. Occasional conversations are interspersed with the clatter of cutlery as the table is set. Plans for a post-dinner board game are already being negotiated. I’m hovering over the stove and someone opens a window as the warmth of Indian cooking fills the living room.
I stir the sambar so it doesn’t stick to the bottom. It’s usually dinner for six, but I peek into the gently gurgling pot of rice to see if it can stretch a bit in case a neighbour stops by. I can’t help smiling as I remember my sister remarking that this house is like the King’s Cross train station – with a revolving door for visitors. She’s right in more ways than one.
One of our housemates is moving on to a new chapter in his life. We’re very happy for him but it’s difficult to imagine this space without those daily interactions we’ve come to depend on. In the last year, I’ve been warned against getting too attached: ‘we do live like family, but we’re not really’, I’ve been told.
That’s not completely true, I think to myself as I fish the chillies out of the sabzi (otherwise they always make it to Kevin’s plate). Sure, we’re essentially strangers thrown together by algorithms, chance encounters and practical decisions. Once our time here ends, there’s no obligation to keep in touch beyond the occasional message. But sharing a space brings a level of familial intimacy.
I’ve been warned against getting too attached to housemates
You know the little details of your housemates’ lives – how they take their coffee, why they hate olives – and I could probably pick their bike out of a line up. We build these relationships on laughing about embarrassing childhood memories, sharing favourite recipes, the worst days and the best news. Over time we settle into comfortable silences, have impromptu picnics and even get past minor annoyances. Quite gradually, you realize that they’ve become unshakable blocks of your everyday.
As we finally crowd around the full dining table, passing around the freshly roasted papads and filling plates, I don’t think I would do anything differently. As new chapters unfold, it becomes a delicate dance of letting go and holding on, just enough.
Ananya Doraswamy is a Master’s student Communication, Health and Life Sciences from India. She delights in a slow-paced day that has plenty of time for cloud watching and tree-gazing. She enjoys being in busy, multicultural kitchens that have plenty of food and stories to offer.
