In a distant Land.

Destiny and fate are all about acceptance.
I was born in a ‘hilltop’ house (as my son calls it), wrapped in nature, snuggled between mountains and pines. My childhood memories are of tea bushes, the immaculate stone bungalow, rugged stone paths, the brooks and springs, wild berries, aromatic neighbourhood kitchens that was open to all, flickering lights of distant houses , the Tibetan incense and my grandmother’s incessant, ‘Om Mani Padme Hung’. Three things that are distinct in my mind’s eye are my grandmother’s large hands, her prayer beads (thenga) and the prayer wheel or the ‘Mani Khorlo’. The prayer beads and prayer wheel have stood the test of time but not my grandmother. All that remains are memories, just plain memories.

Today, that house stands renovated and strong to beat all odds but my relationship with my homeland has changed. I’m a stranger, more of a guest in my own land that needs formal invitation even to spend few hours. The hills and the brooks beckon no doubt but I have obligations far more serious. As Robert Frost said, ‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep’, it’s a similar situation for me. How I wish I could go back to my ‘hill top' house and live life in ruggedness being one with nature but that is far from reality. That which was once familiar and so much a part of me breeds distance. That house in his warm room I was born is more of a tourist lodge where I go once a year to rejuvenate my tired senses. However in that brevity of time, I make every effort to relive my past and once more become 'innocent' and 'pure'. It’s momentary I know yet do do it for personal satisfaction and solace. It’s my desperate effort to take in as much as I can of my root.
People of my homeland consider me one among the fortunate to be venturing in a distant land, achieving success and fame but that’s their innocence speaking. Little do they the turmoil of my heart and the longing of my soul for the pines, the gentle morning breeze, the milkmaid at the doorstep at the break of dawn, friendly neighbors ever willing to offer freshly brewed tea , the buzz and giggle of neighbourhood children walking to school,rain or sun and my grandmother’s ever soothing ‘OM MANI PADME HUNG’.