Nostalgia

Feeling nostalgic today. I guess it's something to do with the need for another holiday. For most of my weariness from monotony or low moods, a quick break from routine almost always helps.

I pine to get back to my home country for another break. Is it nostalgia? Or is there a hint of melancholia in there?

Right now, I miss my hometown. It must be raining over there. It rains for three months almost in the monsoons there. Cool breeze blows at these times and the ground turns into a green carpet that's a soothing feast to the eyes.

I miss my parents. Papa and Mama had many children. I recall the time when I was young and simple, and when my parents shouldered all our responsibilities and I was free - without a care in this world, unaware and unaffected of the complicated world around me. My father was an expert in the science, art and business of cultivating on soil, producing a variety of crops, and raising livestock and farming. He was an agriculturist. I realized upon growing up, we may have been in dearth of other worldly possessions but there was always plenty of food to eat. Tall, handsome, slim and strong, fair but tanned, he toiled hard in the 16 acres of land we had. Mama was a marvellous mother, ever so caring. I still recall how wonderful she used to smell throughout the day. She had such amazingly soft skin.

Each child's birthday was celebrated every year in some special way. Every child was precious to them. How they managed to make each one of us feel special is a mystery to me. Memories of a happy childhood. Young and easy. One large family and we were all content.

So, there we were growing up on that farm. Merrily roaming around the rice fields bare feet, climbing trees, plucking fruits from trees and devouring them, teaming against neighbouring kids to play new self-styled games, running through the jungles chasing rabbits, strolling through them so often to pick up wild berries, enjoying the lush greenery, swimming in the nearby ponds and lakes, playing in the gushing waters of the overflowing streams, frolicking under the waterfalls, playing with the farm animals, hugging and kissing the grazing ones, getting wet in the rains, never fearing but enjoying nature – the flora and fauna, listening to the birds chirp, identifying which bird it was that made such a sweet sound. We took it all for granted, little did we realize then that these times would be cherished so dearly in days to come.

Sometimes two or three of us used to compete as to who would first reach the top most part of the hill seen far away in the apparent horizon. The starting point would always be the big black rocky boulder that was next to our farm house, on which the spectators would be perched. The end point was quite evident to those who did not participate - a tiny silhouette against the sky on top of the hill far in the distant horizon. Boy, our agile feet would take us to the top of the highest hill in a matter of minutes! We used to particularly try such games when our cousins from the city used to visit us and spend weeks, sometimes months, in our farm. They used to be in awe at our agility and speed in maneuvering through those hills and jungles.

Sitting here now, I close my eyes briefly and I can feel the sights, smells and tastes of the farm I grew up in. Those were happy days indeed when I had very little need in this life. Food, water and sleep was probably all that I needed. I cannot recall feeling in want of anything or lacking. Security was taken care of by our parents. I did not know the complications of human mind and emotions then. I did not know then what it was to get hooked to the luxuries of life and then getting hopelessly dependent on it. I did not analyze words such as self-confidence, achievement, or morality. It was all in-built and was just there naturally. In those days, I did not know the meaning of terms like prejudice, sexual orientation or xenophobia. Is this a case of ignorance is bliss?

Those memories are of happy and content times. I know I can never pursue those vanished times. I miss them. Those memories evoke nostalgia.

Now my parents are no more. The farm is no more either. The entire villages around the area have been converted into an industrial region. MRPL. I wonder what do I miss more: is it the lost place or the lost times?

I need a holiday now. I must travel. To seek some solace from this disheartening feeling.

I'll pass by Himachal Pradesh again. This time I'll go to Manali. I've got Leh, Ladakh in mind. At almost 12,000 feet above sea level, I hope my spirits can soar. I wish to go to Kargil too, if possible. That it is an area of conflict does not deter me.

I spoke out my thoughts to my Arab colleague here, who immediately discouraged me saying I'd come back without an arm or even an eye, let alone come back in one piece at all. When I spoke to her about the beauty of nature and the wilderness there, she feared and questioned me: what if a monkey molests you? (A monkey, of all animals, frightens her; if only she was aware of how many fierce animals are out there in the wild and uninhabited areas). The hapless girl spends most of her life cowering about some phobia or the other. So, according to her, in order to prevent the occurrence of being impregnated by a primate, I should avoid all sorts of adventure travels. Poor girl, what does she know of the spirit of adventure and the thrill of a holiday in such places?

So, I shall go to Leh, Ladakh and if I can manage to see any other parts of Jammu and Kashmir, then that would be a bonus.

Travelling is one of my passions. India tops the list.