Life gives surprises and yesterday was my turn. Some say, ‘do not count what you have lost. Just see what you have now’. But, I would say that history always strengthens the foundation of present and future. If the past was bad, it gives you the momentum to shape up life and if it was good, it acts as a stimulator to do better. Yes, yesterday I was being traced back to my history.
A colleague of my father had invited us for dinner. We stay at Bolani (Orissa) and he stays at Kiriburu. It is another Iron Ore Mines of SAIL-RMD which is 15 kilometers away from Bolani and falls under Jharkhand. Strange, is not it?
Well, since these places come under Saranda Reserve Forest so, we had to cut our vehicle through deep forest, which will only confine your imagination to Maoists’ attacks. As I was discussing these issues with papa, we entered Kiriburu gate. And we were soon near Bank More, a market place; turning towards left of it was my very first dwelling place, the Type-2 quarters. I was in the place where my ma brought me when I was 10 months old, where I got my second parents, my jethu and jethima and from where, I went to ‘Baby Land’ to learn the first lessons of life.
I was again in the place where I spent my initial 9 years of life.
While I was busy recollecting my childhood, papa showed the road on which he and ma used to fight for the reason as to who would carry me. Actually, the inclination of the road was very steep and I was too plump to be taken on lap. It was really hilarious.
Then, paving our way to HillTop, we went to the Jagannath Mandir, where the famous ‘Rath festival’ of Orissa takes place. Although, papa tried to make me remember that I had come here several times with him but, I could not even get a hazy picture. Still, it was fascinating listening to your own old stories.
Finishing our dinner, we decided to visit a family friend’s flat. We crossed ‘my school- KV’, the Kiriburu market- Bum Bum Pustak Bhandar, the pond where Chhat Puja still goes on and the very Kali Mandir area where we used to stay after leaving Type-2. My childhood came vivid in front of my eyes. Again, adding an emotional touch to it, papa narrated few incidences which insisted me to pray to god that let me take back to those days when life was so simple and beautiful, when ‘happiness’ prevailed over ‘money’, when ‘success’ was confined to securing good marks in school examination, when ‘scoldings’ were ‘learnings’, when ‘ice-spice’ was the favourite game, when evenings were occupied by ‘I dream of Jeannie’ and ‘Dennis the Menace’, when Sundays were meant ‘Sri Krishna’, ‘Rangoli’ and ‘Mahabharat’, when ‘home work’ was the toughest assignment and ‘morality’ actually existed.
Finally, visiting our family friend’s place, we started for Bolani. There are very few moments, when I had heartily thanked someone, but this time, I should thank that uncle because of whom I could go back to ‘life’ and find ‘myself’.
This trip to home was different. Every time I come home, nothing else hovers over my mind except that I will eat my favourite dishes upto the brim. But, this time when I started from Delhi, the state of my mind was in another horizon. I came searching for care, affection, love and above all peace. The busy life of the capital had kept me abstained from all these and I was not able to find ‘myself’. The ‘full of life’ and jovial Sumana (as Prof Basu used to say) was lost somewhere amongst the ‘ambitious’ lots.
I am still searching the definition of ‘being ambitious’ and ‘successful’. If anyone reading this piece knows, kindly let me know.
Well, I am rejuvenated again. Really, yahan ki hawa mein hi jadu hai.
