Tuesday, December 8, 2009

My Village...

I was just trying few things in Google, and I don’t know why, I typed the name of our village, Dad’s birthplace. It’s been 7 years that I have been there. And in last 12 years I have been there just twice. Coming back to the Google thing, I found few results from Wikimapia. And I clicked it to see that place where I stayed for few years and started my education. Mom was never happy as I had to study in vernacular medium, so did my maternal side. She was born and raised in the best city of Odisa, and had to come to this raw and secluded village and so was the reaction. This village along with another 3 villages was actually cut off from other localities by 2 rivers. I exactly could not locate my school on the virtual map, but found one next to it. Found the two rivers, and few houses.

Today when I am looking at these locales through Wikimapia sitting in Mumbai where I am living for last 4 years, I just realized how far I am from all those quiet places I stayed. I really miss them. This is the place that made me fearless in those dark nights when there was a power cut. This is the village that I liked so much because I always found my relatives nearby, the ones I love, and the ones’ I hate too! This tiny village has taught me to carry the inherent qualities that my ancestors had in them. More importantly, I will always be grateful to my father to have given me a chance to live in the place where he was born and raised upon. I know what & how much it means to him. I know the amount of importance each small landmark of this village carries for him. This is the place that made me aware of the fact that I belong to the red soil and is going to be mixed with it one day.

I got a little bit nostalgic, then I asked myself: can I stay there? Do I want to stay there? The answer to both the questions came as ‘NO’. Because I have been given a completely different lifestyle while being raised. We stayed at more than 4 places before moving to Mom’s hometown where we have built our own homes. Just like I love our home, Dad loves his, but he knows we don’t feel the same somehow towards his village. I know it feels bad to him, but can anybody answer me, why can’t we live without leaving behind all these glitz & glamour. And all these materialistic things. Sometimes when I feel sad, shattered and low; I just want to leave everything and go back to that room where I used to sleep at our village home and wink through that tiny little window to the huge garden we had in the back. And forget everything. Blank.

3 comments:

Sanat said...

Everybody has some or other memories of their natives.

Something to ponder upon: whereever u go, whatever you do and may be you are miles away. But you can never forget the attachment you have for your village. That's the best part.

AL-HAQU MURUN said...

hay u r sounding like me, take it easy. we can together plan a trip to Himalayas, what u say.

Subhajit said...

Hey Ifti, that may not be a bad idea I believe... but I hope we get peace there ;-) Sorry for the late reply.

@ Sanat: Thanks