I HAVE a belief that in my last birth, I was a tailor's dog. This is because I love clothes in this life, and also have a deep understanding of dogs and their feelings.

BUT somewhere in the distant past of my many past lives, I must have also been a cat. Which probably explains my dislike for changing places or houses.

IN fact there is still in my heart a tiny regret for the many homes I have lived in and left behind... and so deep is the hurt over the demolition of my grand aunt's home in Chennai where I have spent many happy holidays, that even today, almost 25 years later, I choose another road rather than drive past the site where the imposing building and its grounds once stood.

BUT change is inevitable, and even as I write this, I am sitting in a place not far away from the room I have occupied for the past 11 years and feeling the change.

LET me explain this... and in the process, clear it in my own mind.

THE room that was my office till yesterday was such that at a pinch you could play a game of croquet in it. I had enough space to hang my paintings, a mirror for quick fixes, and surround myself with my books, bric-a-brac and other things that make an office feel like one's own.

TODAY, I sit in the equivalent of a thimble. A tiny space, with no doors, and from where I can see the rest of the floor and anyone who so desires can see me.

BUT surprisingly, despite my fears, which I locked away through the months of renovation work, I am not depressed. Maybe the cat's nine lives are over and it has left my psyche completely. Or maybe it is the fact that as life goes on, we learn to see the brighter side of things rather than look at the negatives.

IN fact, even as the new area was being created, and I saw the space taking on shape and the shapes taking on colour, it looked like an exciting place to be.

AND now, I see why. The light, for one, energises, and the space, though small, is bright with natural light, and thus a definite change from the dark, airless and lightless room of the immediate past. There, if the electricity failed, it would plunge me into a darkness so deep that I could, with a bit of imagination, believe myself underground. Here, even in the night, the light from the road and the sky reflects.

AND that makes the vital difference. In the past I have heard people say that living in a dark place can be depressing. Being cut off from sounds of daily living can alienate. I refused to let it happen to me, but now that I am in the light and can hear the occasional bus roaring three floors below, and see the stars if I open the slats of the window above me, I think the energy has begun to flow into me and I can aspire to a new high.

ALL the thought and effort that has gone into creating a creative space for creative minds cannot be in vain.

AND in understanding this is my celebration.