Where my soul feels the warmth of a womb...
You cross the river through a small foot-over bridge, dancing to
the music of the waves. The distant bank of the river, that is lined with springs,
summons you to get down, splash some cleansing water on the face, drink the
nectar-like-water as it refreshes you and you get this soothing feeling of rejuvenation,
you feel all the weariness that you somehow were carrying
with you all these years is brushed off in one moment. Moving past the river
and springs, you enter the lush greenery of the paddy fields, balancing between
muddy field on one side and water canal on the other, a hop into the canal feels
the chill in water right up in spine. And then finally you climb up the
mountain slope to reach your abode.
Does this sound like a glimpse of heaven-on-earth or a feel of a
scenery awarded by the genie-in-a-bottle? Well, this is how, this is where, I
have spent the best days of my childhood, this is the place where I belong,
this is where my ‘roots’ still lie entangled and happy in the fragrant earth.
My thoughts keep drifting back, back to those euphoric days of my
childhood, when school would oblige us with long holidays, when the mind and
heart would be young and free enough to sway in the explorations and we would
head off to live through the most exquisite experience in our remote village on
the magnificent coast of Konkan, beautifully located in hills and mountain
ranges.
Recently when I visited this place and stepped on its soil after a
dozen yearlong hibernation, the memories kept gushing in, memories full of
happy, carefree days spent there, of carrying water in ‘handis’ and ‘kalshis’
from river to up home, of eating ‘bhakri’ for lunch, sitting in the shade of a
huge banyan tree, of climbing onto mango trees to carefully pluck mangoes, of
bathing the cows and milking them, of blowing air into the ‘chool’ to keep it
burning, of making pulps and papads and pickles, of chasing away monkeys from
the courtyard, of sitting by the riverside listening to musical sounds of
swaying trees and chirping birds, of playing cards at night in the dim light of
oil lamps, of forgetting studies or even the fact that any school existed, of
the heavy feeling as holidays used to end. Every holiday spent there and every
detail of it is as fresh today as the place is. 
The kids there have now grown up, the grown-ups have grown old,
the old are nowhere to be seen, but the place is as young and vibrant as ever; untouched,
unscathed, unadulterated; all of which belonged to me, which defined me in many
ways, all of which I left behind, begetting restlessness to my soul as I
started and still continue my journey of life. But I know that the day this
restless soul leaves its body, this is the womb it will return to, this is the very
place it will rest in peace.
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