Watching Nani's Village Turn Into A Ghost Town Conjured Up Memories Of A Childhood I Still Miss
It didn't matter that I couldn't keep my luggage properly or even find a seat comfortable enough. I have probably become used to it by now, travelling often on Delhi¡¯s public transport. Maybe the excitement of going to nani's village after seven years was too much.?
Yes, maybe it was the excitement of visiting the village; I couldn't see anything beyond that. I could only see snowy mountains, a familiar language and the roads where I spent my school summer holidays.
Because of my father's job, I spent my childhood in many cities and a few of these I am quite attached to, but the love that came from my grandmother's?village is something that I can¡¯t really explain. Whenever someone talks about nani¡¯s house, a picture of the village forms in my mind.?
After seven long years, I was going to my nani's village. But, this time I was going to miss her. The house was closed after she passed away. I felt her absence in every corner of the house. After getting off the bus, all childhood summer vacation memories I spent in this village came rushing back. But, the people...
In nani's village, few people were left. Some of them had passed away,?others had left the village.
The orchards from which we ate peaches, guava, oranges, limbe (big lemon) maltes were broken. The fields that we used to play in had dried up.?
The source where people used to used to fill their pots of water from was still there, but the people weren't. The grandmother who usually shouted children's names wasn¡¯t home anymore, and neither was my nani. The village was deserted.
When I reached the village, I placed the bag at the door and opened the lock. My throat was dry... Before we used to reach home Nani used to make tea and stand with open arms to welcome us. This time I could only imagine her doing so.?
While unlocking the doors, I imagined the time that I had spent there, living life without a care in the world. I never realised that eventually only these moments would remain, not the people. If I had known, I would have definitely cherished them more.?
After taking some rest, when I went around the village, my heart was broken. The grass was frozen at my favorite place in the village. Homes that I used to visit had locks on them. The corrosion on locks was telling me that I was too late to return. The broken houses, the termite infested walls and the deep silence in these places, were telling me that the hustle and bustle had died out a few years ago. I sat there and listened to that silence. We sat and talked about old times before returning to nani¡¯s home.?
Uttarakhand is one of the few states that is struggling with migration, despite being full of natural beauty and tourism. In Uttarakhand, there¡¯s a huge shortage of employment. In 2000, when the state was established, it held a lot of promise. But due to lack of jobs and opportunity, people left the villages and towns. Few old timers lived here for a few years but after they passed away the village became deserted and now locks hang on the doors of homes.?
But not all hope is lost. Thousands of children are trying to revive these deserted villages. Those visiting these villages for at least two days in a year, they know time will breathe life into the village.?
I met some such families in the village who have left the city life and settled here. I salute to their courage. Living in a mountain village is not easy. The cold, lack of facilities and desperation can overwhelm you. But the comfort of seeing the sun rising from a relaxed mountain can hardly be met by anything else.?
I came back home after spending a few days in the village. I saw some people after many years and other I visited in memory sitting outside their locked homes. This time I have come back with the promise that I will return here every year. Nani will be waiting...?
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