the journey back home

I wake up with a frosted cheek, a result of dozing with my cheek on the cold window. The bus lurches around another curve as it climbs into the dark hills. As I open the window the cold wind rushes past bringing with it the crisp fragrance of the pepper shrubs.

I draw the blanket closer and peer out into the dying darkness. A little further, and now I can make out the dark concentric circles around the hills. Layers of tea leaves rustling in welcome. Nestled in the valley beyond is my home - a village with one main street. A home I left more than a decade ago.

The sky is turning a turbid gray as the bus descends into the valley. A handful of lights shone from below. The faint sound of the temple bells floods my mind with the memories of the sultry afternoons spent swimming in the village pond, running in little circles with my little brother on my back, sleepy days repeating multiplication tables in chorus...amma's bangles clinking as she served puttu for breakfast, appa reading out stories from old newspapers...With each curve downhill my smile is growing wider and my heart thumping louder. I can't wait to leap out of the bus and run down the road, screaming with joy. I can't wait to hold them tight and smother them with kisses.

I pat my bag unconsciously. Gifts that were chosen after days of deliberation...I wrapped them myself with brimming love. Gold bangles for amma, transistor radio for appa and a bag of candies for kuttan - my brother, my companion.

The taillights of the bus fade away as I stand at the roadside. Most of the village in still rapt in slumber. A few homes are just stirring with the lady of the house sweeping the courtyard and decorating it with kolam. All of a sudden a thousand emotions are churning in my heart. I thought I would be sprinting down the road and rapping the doorknocker. But I find my legs tied down.

I walk to the teashop and put my bag on the wooden bench. As I am served hot kattan-chai a glimmer of recognition flashes on the owner’s face, then fades. His age and vision have moved in opposite directions. He can't place me. He doesn't remember me. I am shivering with fear now, may be it is the cold. I cup the tea glass with both hands and allow the steam to touch my face. And I stare...stare down the road, the road that has remained a virgin. Nothing has changed since the morning I left. Left this sleepy village to see the world, in search of a life that would be anywhere but in this suffocating valley where even seasons have stopped changing.

The rows of huts creak in the wind and a few meters away is the white washed home of the village medic. My home, or what was once my home. When I walked away I was just a boy. Since then I have had the world throw its myriad challenges at me. Each step was laborious but each step made me a man. Among all my struggles there was one constant, a constant that kept me going - my home and the people I love. I am afraid I will realize I have transformed into something that would make me an alien in my home. That would make me dislike my own people, their simplicity and their unchanging ways.

The thought of this journey back home filled me with such happiness that I cried. Now that I am just a few meters away my heart is slipping away. A long journey lies ahead and I need the power of this umbilical cord that ties me to this place. I can’t risk losing this last link.

As I stand facing the heaving brown door I can feel the warmth inside. Tears stream down my face as I leave the gifts at the doorstep. With unchanged memories tucked safely in my bosom, I walk away into the morning mist.


iyer