It seems that in some western countries, accommodation is moving from king-size to modest. Small houses, ranging from 1,000 square feet to even 100 square feet in floor space are the new ‘in’ thing, part of the Tiny House Movement you may have read about. Probably because there is so much work involved in maintaining a large house, many of us move towards simplification.
We should have learnt this lesson early in our marriage. We were semi-nomads because we moved every couple of years from one military cantonment to another. We didn’t get a house immediately on our arrival in town and had to move into temporary accommodation while our name went slowly up a long list of others like us who were waiting for a ‘permanent’ house.
Those temporary quarters usually consisted of one room and a bath and a makeshift kitchen in a tiny, temporarily covered verandah. There, we would open up our fridge, stove and a few essential cooking and serving dishes. Of course, we knew exactly what was in store for us before we arrived, so we had packed accordingly: One box for household necessities and one suitcase of clothes for each of us.
Very little time was spent in ‘settling down’ and in a couple of hours we were open for business as usual. Visitors would pop in, some with a dish of food for us, some to share a dish of our food, prepared in that same makeshift kitchen — and we managed to host little parties and get-togethers, making sure we did not call more people than we had plates.
Seeing that it was all so idyllic and we were able to make do with so little in such a restricted area, we should have refused to leave when we were allotted a slightly larger house some months later, right? But we didn’t. We jumped at the new place though it was still ‘temporary accommodation’ and we re-packed the boxes and suitcases we had opened, entered our new home and emptied them out again.
Now there was a little more space to move around. We didn’t bump into each other and we didn’t have to vault over our child and dog whenever we took a step. It was bliss for a couple of months. But were we content to leave it that way? No.
We opened a few more boxes and suitcases and started to fill up all the empty spaces. We took out additional crockery and cutlery, more dishes: Ergo, we could have more people over for meals ... more crowding in.
Many more months passed. Just as we were coming to terms with that thought that it would soon be time to leave town, we learnt that our long wait had borne fruit. We were allotted a house. Three bedrooms. Three bathrooms. Balcony. Kitchen. Store-room. How could we let it go?
There was yet another round of re-packing and unpacking — and this time we went the whole nine yards. Every last toy and curio was taken out of our boxes and placed on display, as were the books and pictures and wall hangings.
We justified that frenzy of effort with the thought that everything needed ‘airing’. Besides, the countdown to the next posting had already begun. We would have to go through the whole cycle of one-room, two-rooms, three-rooms in another town pretty soon. Who knew when we would get another chance to ‘spread out’?
So, not one of us passed up the opportunity to get into that large house. Not one of us said, ‘We’re fine as we are, we don’t want to move’.
Yes, we had first-hand experience of how little space we need. But, unfortunately, we didn’t learn anything from that experience.
Cheryl Rao is a freelance journalist based in India.
