Come October and the hills are decked in hues so rich and regal. Vibrant and prominent, these lovely flowers usher in the festive season making hearts merry. Every portico and porch is an array of color, a sight that’s sheer bliss!
The concept of ‘good walls make good neighbors’, doesn’t exist in my home town. Houses merge with the elements of nature and appear to be part of it .There are no concrete walls to bar the scenic beauty or corrupt the mind. Every house is accessible. A steaming cup of Darjeeling tea and a warm smile is what you’ll find at the very threshold, the rest of the courtesies follow. There are no inhibitions or reservations. You don’t need to book a time and date to visit a neighbour or a good friend. Such a practice is known only to doctors with an endless list of visitors. However, there’s a concession there too if the attendant happens to be a ‘gaon ko bhai or daju’ (neighbourhood acquaintance) and apparently, that’s always the case as everyone knows everyone.
People in my hometown are ONE and that ‘Oneness’ can be breathed in the air itself.
Like the Marigolds and Chrysanthemums, their hearts are always in bloom, ever willing to give and receive. Nature’s bounty adorns their life, therefore, they need no modern day 'Detoxing' and 'Destressing' therapies. Simplicity of the mind and spirit will see them through it all.
2 comments:
You paint such a colourful idyllic portrait of your hometown. Indeed you awaken in me such feelings of longing for my hometown and the life that was.
Once upon a time, my village was the same, but time has long gone and the simple wild flowers that once lined the fields and outlined the gardens and vineyards have been replaced by cultivated rosebushes and well trimmed trees. The friendly calling to each other over the balconies has been replaced by the formal phone call to see if the neighbours are available for a cup of coffee.
I also look back nostalgically at the time before Lent when we would gather to prepare the rich meat dishes and share the fruits of our sweat on the festive Thursday before the great fast. Or when there was a wedding, the neighbours were the family and helped prepare the houses to receive the guests; such celebrations take place at the club now.
I guess that’s why I love my mountain walks in the summer. Innocence has not been replaced by wealth and affluence. This year as we were walking back from an early morning trek to an altitude of 2000 metres, we came across a tent occupied by a family of goat herders. The goats were skipping about on the nearby ridges and the husband and elder boys were watching them from the cool of a tree. The tent was occupied by the wife and younger children who needless to say ran out to meet us. The wife, who was busying herself with the daily chores of cooking and cleaning, came out of the shade to invite us in for a cup of coffee. It was a hearty welcome and echoed of sincerity.
As we walked on I looked back at the colourful tents pitched against a background of majestic mountains, still coated in the early morning mist, and longed for the days of yore.
Wow, you two! I've only ever lived here and can only relate to this based on the stories that people have recounted to me, people who've told me how much they miss that simple knock on the door and, "Hey, put the pot on; we're here for some coffee." Lots of people who have lived their lives in cultures such as the ones you've both portrayed really miss this here in Dubai.
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