"No one could be so foolish," I exclaimed. "How could anyone want to live there ? I'd die of boredom in a day !"
The place being discussed was just a tiny dot on the map. It was the birth place of the folks, a small village in Gujarat. A place that still struggled between being ancient and old, it had no access to television even. What it did have however, was an ancestral home, that was in dire need of repairs and it was being proposed that I go live there and provide an overview since i was at this point of time footloose and fancy free. Just having finished college, i had been looking forward to a holiday, backpacking thru Rajasthan with my friends, and was instead, being ordered off to a godforsaken place in the back of beyond. One in which i had no interest whatsoever. "Im not going, and thats' final," said I, before leaving the room in a huff.
So it was that a week hence i started off for the village. Imagine if you will, a row of elders standing arms akimbo, breathing down your neck, glaring collectively thru their glasses at you, everytime you looked up. So finally i had to throw up my arms in despair and agreed to stay there for a month. No more. It helped that dad converted the Rajasthan trip to a trip to Jerusalem, something i'd wanted to do most of my life, if i went to Sidhpur first.
It was the month of June, the rains had started. When i got off the train, my senses were assailed with the smell of fresh earth. Not just a whiff, that you might perchance get in a garden in Mumbai. No. This was the real thing. A heady wafting of a light breeze swirling all around you, scented with that most elusive of perfumes, the smell of moist, freshly rained upon earth. I sat in the Tonga, the horse cart that carried me home. My eyes closed, the clip clopping of the horse adding to the magic of the moment, i savored a strange peace, one i hadn't felt in quite a while.
Before me, when i got off, was a gate. Had i entered a Ruskin Bond novel, i wondered as it creaked open. There ahead of me was a small path. A small chipmunk, stood on its hind legs, head turned to watch this unexpected intruder. I stood. I stared. Was this regal looking house, ours ? Accustomed as i had been my entire life to a flat, i felt like a maharaja surveying his palace as i looked up skywards at this imposing mansion.
A small cough from behind me brought me back to earth. A small lady accompanied by a stout man, stood behind me. "Welcome," they said in unison, as they led me into the home. A film set, yes, thats' what it was, i told myself. A huge hall, a wondrous chandelier suspended in its midst, had opened up before me. Further ahead was a winding staircase that led up to the chambers above. The dusty marble floors housed regal sofas, covered with dust sheets. I wafted up in an awe induced stupor, and was led to my bedroom. I closed my eyes, then opened them as the door opened. A huge four poster bed, stood in the middle of the room. Feeling like an imposter, i climbed onto it. I was dreaming, surely. That night i slept soundly. The pitter patter of the raindrops on my window was surreal almost.
Through the portals of this, my ancestral home, i had been transported to a different world. From a sullen, modern day youth, i had become a feudal Lord. No book, no movie had ever prepared me for the grandeur of this house. Each meal was a celebration, served by attendants who revered you almost, never mind your age. The very thought of a television seemed like a desecration. Something i never missed at all, in the time i stayed there.
Even after a week, i was still caught up in the marvel of living life, in so grand a house. Days were full of wonderment at the treasures it housed. Nights were magical. I had never known a darkness so complete as the one outside my window. The chirruping of crickets, the distant glow of firewoms, the whistle of a train passing by. I lay in bed, feeling for the first time, a oneness with my surroundings, a peace that reached my poor soul, inundated with the cacaphony of the city, thus far. My ears attuned to nature, i was alive as i had never been before. Never once did i feel like an alien, which surprised me no end. Instead i felt like i was meeting an old ancestor, a beloved parent whom i had neglected all these years. My life changed, as I revelled in exploring who i was, where i came from.
The carved antique cupboards, yielded precious treasures. A long forgotten gramophone, its golden horn like appearance, so rich to behold, a collection of old coins, brass vases, copper utensils, even my great grandfathers' regal velvet coat. One room housed antique carpets, so fabulous, i found myself scared to even touch them, leave alone walk on them. One cupboard housed crockery. Fine glassware, tea sets from a past era, when cups were the size of mugs, and mugs the size of canisters. Bedsheets and pillow covers, hand embroidered so exquisitely, they made me gasp in awe. Clocks, the grandfather one in the hall, and the timepiece that belonged to my grandfather, were still in mint condition, so lovingly had they been preserved. In one of the attics, i even found a cradle, hand carved, custom made with my fathers' name etched on it !
Time flew. Soon enough, it was time for me to leave. Eyes moist, heavy heart, notwithstanding i left, my head turned to watch the Home as it slowly retreated away from my sight.
Landing at the station, it was the noise that assailed me first. The sheer din of people rushing headlong into their lives. The rains were heavy here too. The stench of the wet garbage overpowering. Kerchief to nose i fled int o the confines of the cab, that took me back home.
Home? Home is supposed to be where the heart is. Mine was left behind somewhere in the remote village of my ancestors.
The place being discussed was just a tiny dot on the map. It was the birth place of the folks, a small village in Gujarat. A place that still struggled between being ancient and old, it had no access to television even. What it did have however, was an ancestral home, that was in dire need of repairs and it was being proposed that I go live there and provide an overview since i was at this point of time footloose and fancy free. Just having finished college, i had been looking forward to a holiday, backpacking thru Rajasthan with my friends, and was instead, being ordered off to a godforsaken place in the back of beyond. One in which i had no interest whatsoever. "Im not going, and thats' final," said I, before leaving the room in a huff.
So it was that a week hence i started off for the village. Imagine if you will, a row of elders standing arms akimbo, breathing down your neck, glaring collectively thru their glasses at you, everytime you looked up. So finally i had to throw up my arms in despair and agreed to stay there for a month. No more. It helped that dad converted the Rajasthan trip to a trip to Jerusalem, something i'd wanted to do most of my life, if i went to Sidhpur first.
It was the month of June, the rains had started. When i got off the train, my senses were assailed with the smell of fresh earth. Not just a whiff, that you might perchance get in a garden in Mumbai. No. This was the real thing. A heady wafting of a light breeze swirling all around you, scented with that most elusive of perfumes, the smell of moist, freshly rained upon earth. I sat in the Tonga, the horse cart that carried me home. My eyes closed, the clip clopping of the horse adding to the magic of the moment, i savored a strange peace, one i hadn't felt in quite a while.
Before me, when i got off, was a gate. Had i entered a Ruskin Bond novel, i wondered as it creaked open. There ahead of me was a small path. A small chipmunk, stood on its hind legs, head turned to watch this unexpected intruder. I stood. I stared. Was this regal looking house, ours ? Accustomed as i had been my entire life to a flat, i felt like a maharaja surveying his palace as i looked up skywards at this imposing mansion.
A small cough from behind me brought me back to earth. A small lady accompanied by a stout man, stood behind me. "Welcome," they said in unison, as they led me into the home. A film set, yes, thats' what it was, i told myself. A huge hall, a wondrous chandelier suspended in its midst, had opened up before me. Further ahead was a winding staircase that led up to the chambers above. The dusty marble floors housed regal sofas, covered with dust sheets. I wafted up in an awe induced stupor, and was led to my bedroom. I closed my eyes, then opened them as the door opened. A huge four poster bed, stood in the middle of the room. Feeling like an imposter, i climbed onto it. I was dreaming, surely. That night i slept soundly. The pitter patter of the raindrops on my window was surreal almost.
Through the portals of this, my ancestral home, i had been transported to a different world. From a sullen, modern day youth, i had become a feudal Lord. No book, no movie had ever prepared me for the grandeur of this house. Each meal was a celebration, served by attendants who revered you almost, never mind your age. The very thought of a television seemed like a desecration. Something i never missed at all, in the time i stayed there.
Even after a week, i was still caught up in the marvel of living life, in so grand a house. Days were full of wonderment at the treasures it housed. Nights were magical. I had never known a darkness so complete as the one outside my window. The chirruping of crickets, the distant glow of firewoms, the whistle of a train passing by. I lay in bed, feeling for the first time, a oneness with my surroundings, a peace that reached my poor soul, inundated with the cacaphony of the city, thus far. My ears attuned to nature, i was alive as i had never been before. Never once did i feel like an alien, which surprised me no end. Instead i felt like i was meeting an old ancestor, a beloved parent whom i had neglected all these years. My life changed, as I revelled in exploring who i was, where i came from.
The carved antique cupboards, yielded precious treasures. A long forgotten gramophone, its golden horn like appearance, so rich to behold, a collection of old coins, brass vases, copper utensils, even my great grandfathers' regal velvet coat. One room housed antique carpets, so fabulous, i found myself scared to even touch them, leave alone walk on them. One cupboard housed crockery. Fine glassware, tea sets from a past era, when cups were the size of mugs, and mugs the size of canisters. Bedsheets and pillow covers, hand embroidered so exquisitely, they made me gasp in awe. Clocks, the grandfather one in the hall, and the timepiece that belonged to my grandfather, were still in mint condition, so lovingly had they been preserved. In one of the attics, i even found a cradle, hand carved, custom made with my fathers' name etched on it !
Time flew. Soon enough, it was time for me to leave. Eyes moist, heavy heart, notwithstanding i left, my head turned to watch the Home as it slowly retreated away from my sight.
Landing at the station, it was the noise that assailed me first. The sheer din of people rushing headlong into their lives. The rains were heavy here too. The stench of the wet garbage overpowering. Kerchief to nose i fled int o the confines of the cab, that took me back home.
Home? Home is supposed to be where the heart is. Mine was left behind somewhere in the remote village of my ancestors.
Sidhpur so aptly described..wonderful! want to go again soon!
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