(Appeared in The Tribune 02 / 02 / 1996)
My father
hails from a small town in Punjab, the headquarters of the orchards cum gardens
district. Its small size made the town quite an informal place. In this town
was our ancestral house – a large old style imposing mansion with huge iron
gates, one grand entrance gate being hand carved beautifully, huge walls,
innumerable staircases and high ceiling rooms.
Summer
holidays were always meant for going home from wherever Dad was posted in the
army, exploring the rooms, browsing through the huge library, running around
the trees and taking long walks in the cool evenings with the Shivalik ranges
clearly visible.
But slowly
the house was emptying. My grandparents were no more and the huge house now had
only a few permanent occupants – my aunt, uncle and cousins. Our visits
continued, but as we grew up, rather less frequently.
However in
my mind the home was always there – each and every object etched permanently on
my memory bank – the feeling of having it close always. A short visit was all
that was required to recharge the batteries.
Over the
years the sisters got married and they moved away – the house saw it all. Then
my aunt was no more, but my mind still saw the home as it was under her gentle
, affectionate, comforting hands. Then
uncle also passed away and the home was truly alone.
Visits home
stopped, but in my mind the home was it once was. There were too many sweet
memories to allow the reality of the present to intrude rudely into them. Then
someone rang up and told us the other day that the trees were in full bloom and
the bougainvillaea was spreading colour all over the deserted brooding home.
Nature was looking after its own even as we had all moved away.
But now I
shall not go to see the trees of my home. For me the home is sacred memory
which will not bear the sight of a builder tearing it down to make it into
small, neat, modern houses. For me the home is forever.
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Elena wrote: "Danny, this is so beautifully done. I remember how much my dad loved the family home and how much it meant to him. Mom has the most wonderful memories of her visits there. I will show this article to her. We will call next wknd. I will be home visiting mom. "
ReplyDeleteRk wrote: "I thought all the main lines are mine and you only expressed them. Lovely piece of writing Dinesh thish touched me some were deep in my heart."
ReplyDeleteBala wrote: "Good Memories....This is the situation for everyone who were in a rural/village background and moved on to chase dreams outside our "Home Forever" boundaries. But our next generation may miss all these wonderful things as they are brought up in concrete jungle and pay visit charges (clubs, gardens, parks etc) to enjoy these privileges...."
ReplyDeleteRahul wrote: "nice nostalgic piece Dinesh, beauty les in its simplicity...."
ReplyDeleteRahul wrote: "By the River They left one by one, They all left Each his own time, I stood by Not sure of mine. Will you come back? Not sure, they said We need some time, What is it about them About the time that each seeks? Save yourself, I said, Make peace and find yourself, Whilst I await, still, None came back, ever. I am still waiting, looking out By the dark riverside, Will you come back? (shahenshah kehte hain ki takht badal gaya Bisaat kehti hai ki mohre badal gaye Hijab mein bhi haya rang laati hai Phir zamaana kehta hai ki waqt guzar gaya)"
ReplyDeleteTeri Hansi...Meri Jindagi........Us pal nu sanjoo kar rakhya hega
ReplyDeletejado mere hath nu tera hath milya
khush kismat hega main is jahan vich
jo meinu jindagi vich tera sath milya…
.............Hope ye hasi ye jindagi sada hi......राम करे.....
Manmohan Singh Duggal 1:37pm Jun 23
ReplyDeleteDil kyon bulaye unhe..........Twada andaj dil nu chu jan wala hega
sada dil twade dil nal mil jan wala hega
rakhi khula apne dil de darwaje nu
sada khyal twade
ReplyDeleteRead it today only , a while ago. It made me very happy at start, a bit sad feeling followed and a big realization of the real reality of the present (we are in.) ultimately." the nostalgia"
On writing it was really vivid, terse with great meaning despite flowing write from middle of your heart.
A great.......
RR Badyal
DUSHYANTSAID - yeah its nostalgic...i too miss my place in western Uttar Pradesh , in a rustic , not so famous , in fact infamous for gun running and robust culture...still home is a home and whenever i could visit...may be only when social responsibilities compel me or when so ever , i am too tired of myself , and want a gentle recuperation under mango orchards and warmth of my fellow villagers , i always feel 'oh...home sweet home...'. Quite frequently my daughter asks me whats there dad ? and i quietly smile...thinking that she will get the answer when she grows up and gets engrossed in life and then on a few lazy evenings when she will remember her parental abodes and grand parents house in Lucknow...looking forward to turning 60...may be then i could go back to the lap of my waiting ancestral home and pass afew remaining years in peace and tranquility...i also wish that someday i can take along a few of my friends and acquaintances for a short visit to my village
ReplyDeleteso that together i can share some memorable moments in the company of my great grandfathers abode...probably while getting that huge house , he would have dreamt that its courtyard shall remain agog and alive with the laughter and gaity of his family....but down the passage of time....it was not to be...hopes,hopes and hopes....