Kop Bhawan Part I: The House of Depression I don't offer you any solution. I just want to write about things that had happened between me and you (or vice versa), in this setting that's called house, which was supposed to be a home. It starts as a book to look at our relationship in isolation and in the second draft I realize what a fool I was to do so. Without my parents, siblings and relatives, the story has wobbly feet. Why did I write it? To make sense of it. Was I successful? Only in gathering stories and learning about myself, nothing much. At the end, I have a storybook that exposes my mistakes and failures. I am a firm believer of the concept "a person can't learn a thing from someone else's experience, but only from his own mistakes." These learning crystallizes as experiences. These experiences don't happen without the mistakes and subsequent anguish and anxieties. By reading these stories, I trust, you'll realize you're not alone. It's my only hope from this collection. This book relies on a supportive sounding board of friends and well-wishers who listened to my rants and provided helpful critiques on married life. I have mentioned them in the stories but even where I didn't, I spoke the lesson learnt from the interactions with them. This path I've followed was painful, but looking back, I wouldn't change any of it.