The floor is lava

When I moved to Bangkok, the #1 priority for me was a good house. As someone who has rented plenty of houses in her life, I have always believed a home calls out to you, and this one was no different. As soon as I entered the house, I knew this was it. As I settled into my gorgeous apartment a month later, I learned how to cook on an induction instead of a gas stove, manage with my limited (see: zero) knowledge of Thai and find the best branch of 7-11 of the 500 around me. This, I realised, was the fun part. The unsettling part was - there was no fan in my house. All I had was the AC. Quickly rectifying my situation, I asked my landlord for a pedestal fan.

You see, it’s not a real home without a fan. Growing up, not only did I not have an AC in the room, but I had one better - a water cooler. The loud kind. The one which when switched on, you KNOW it's on. It bellowed like a bull, its rumbling felt throughout the house. My room was opposite the house entrance, so anyone coming in was immediately blasted by air, any unsecured doors banged loudly. My mom loved to open all door and sit in the lobby, enjoying the cool air during summer evenings. Those were some of my favourite moments growing up. Just existing, doing my homework, maybe having coffee or tea in the evening with namkeen, and playing made-up games with my sisters.

One such game was ‘The floor is lava’ - I am sure you would have played some variation of it. We had this decorative bedsheet with a scenery filled with mountains, rivers and for some reason, fire? My cousin and I jumped around on it, getting to the river, hands flailing, clutching the corner of the bedsheet with our toes.

Even though I grew up, I still find myself playing a variation of the game - jumping through hoops, sometimes firefighting, sometimes avoiding any areas of my life too explosive, too wild to handle, always on my toes. It’s easy to do right? I have my safety jacket in the form of a smartphone in my hand. The lava doesn’t take over, but builds in the background while I try to distract myself. Meanwhile, my feet sink in slightly deeper.

Well, it had been one of those weeks where I was blinded by the ash and smoke, not able to find the corner of that bedsheet, when I decided to buy some overpriced coffee, switch on the fan, and sit in my home office while reading the newsletters piling up in my inbox.

Lo and behold, I was taken back to those summer evenings. My home felt like My Home. Sure, it was fleeting. It didn't last the whole evening. I found myself sinking back a few hours later. But those moments were precious. For a few hours, I aimlessly took a stroll in the nearby area, put some Bhujia in a bowl to accompany my milky coffee, stared at the wilting flowers in the vase on my desk, and with the background noise of the fan rattling and humming- quietened down. Existed.

Sometimes the escape from lava isn’t about escape, it’s getting the gust of air to just see through the smoke.