#whilewewalked with Maryam on the streets of Tilburg on a cold November night she answered in her reverie, when asked what meaning does ‘home’ have for her, “I belong nowhere and to no one. When a circular light bathes me in its light and watches over me, I feel I am home. I feel safe. I believe this circle of light has been part of my subconscious for many lifetimes”.

An artist and a dreamer, Maryam comes from Iran.

#whilewewalked with Arzoo she told us about how she and her husband came in search of work to the city from a small village in Bengal.

When asked what does home mean to you, she looked ruefully and said, “Ghar to raheeson ke hote hai didi, humare to sirf jhopada hota hai. Tinka-Tinka jod kar to mahal nahi na banta, sirf chidiya ka ghosla ban pata hai.”

{homes are for the rich, my sister, we just have shacks. By collecting straws you can’t make palaces, you can only make a nest of a bird.}

#whilewewalked with Vitória one late October afternoon, the autumn leaves had started to fall. We walked talking about her home is Brazil and her understanding of the new customs and festivals here in Holland.

After an hour, when our conversation drained out, we had a long span of silence with just the sound of rustling leaves to accompany us. After what felt like a long long time, she said, “me and my sister have a tattoo of a bird and our mother of a nest. Our coming together is my perfect home.”

#whilewewalked with Cristine she looked at the street full of rush hour traffic and said, “I like the sound of cities and cars. It makes me feel alive.”

Slowly, we made our way to the quieter lanes of Piushaven and stood looking at the flowing stream of water. After a while, she turned around, looked at my side, smiled her bright smile and said, “I love to the sound of chirping birds. The sounds of nature can warm your heart, no.” She reflected, “I guess, I like both. I guess, I am both - the chaos and the calm.”

#whilewewalked with Rachel across the city, we realized, she knew the city like the back of her hand. Each turn, each street, each shop we walked by, came with a string of stories and anecdotes.

As we were passing by one of the most popular restaurant of Tilburg, De Spaarbank, she looked up at the second floor of the establishment and said gleefully, “When I was growing up, this was a house to family of eight children. On the second floor, was a bright pink room of my friend where we roller-skated all evening long. It was magnificent, something I will always cherish.”

#whilewewalked with Priya during the peak hours in the evening near the Gurgaon-Delhi border we could hardly hear each other over the sounds of traffic and roadside vendors. Priya comes from a small village near Bareilly and has been working for the past five years in Udyog Vihar in a clothing factory. She is a single mother to two beautiful young children.

I asked her, do you like the city?
She said, “For me the city is a place of independence. I feel like I am equal to a man. I can work, raise my kids well, buy things I always wanted. If I would do the same job in my village, people will talk, whisper behind my back, spread rumours that I have an affair with a boy, I neglect my kids and more. But here the same work is respected. I send back some savings at home, my father is proud of me. I am like his son. For me this place has become a place of privilege.”

#whilewewalked with Noortje on a warm February afternoon in a park, she said “This is my first outing in a park in Delhi. In India, my interaction with public space is minimal. It’s very transactional, unlike my engagement in public space in Holland. Here, I move from point A to point B - I don’t loiter or attempt a longer route. Maybe, I am more cautious here because people have put the fear in my mind.”

Noortje is a dance professional & photographer from Holland and has been to India three times.

#whilewewalked with Mrs.Dixit on a hot March evening in a park next to her apartment with her voice laden with nostalgia she uttered, “Once upon a time, Delhi had the voice of sparrows and bulbuls. The progress has killed most of them. Now, what’s left is this monotonous background score of construction work and traffic.”

#whilewewalked with Jayshree, she reminisced, “My mother’s house is still what triggers the memory of home for me. She passed away six years ago and my sister & her family have moved into her house. My sister tore down the 70 year old architecture and a new triple floored construction was built. On the back of the house, she has kept the old wall intact. The wall has three jharokhas (windows). Every time I visit, I look through them. I can see through them - my mother, the memory of my childhood and scenes of a city long gone.”