Chapter 47அதிகாரம் 47 உறைவிடம் Shelter

On bare ground, one line drawn with a stick: all it marks is inside, and home.

The Tamil word akam means both ‘inside’ and ‘home’. One line scratched in the earth is enough to set a patch of ground apart.

Once the walls are raised and the roof is finished, the house is born when whoever comes walks in.

Did the man who shut his house see the whole sky? He had shut his eyes to begin with.

Tamil uses one verb, ‘closed’, for both the house and the eyes, as though they were one kind of act.

A bird that knows its nest is there, its wing settling; a heart that knows its home is there.

Where there is one door, night is sleep; where there is not one door, night is open eyes.

To those who have a house, the sound of rain is a song; to those who have no house, it is death.

Someone with one wall talks of a hundred days; someone with no wall talks of rice.

Goods put under a roof are kept; for a man with no house, what he has is a burden, and only for as long as his shoulders last.

Through a house full of darkness the way is walked without a stumble; the eye does not know the home, the foot does.

To those who have shelter, shelter is only a word; to those who have no shelter, it is life.

The Tamil word for shelter, pukalidam, means ‘a place to run into’: a refuge to flee to, not only a roof.