As a child, vacations for me and my brother meant visiting grandparents and cousins in our native village.
It was about living the carefree rustic life far from the everyday disciplined routine of the city life.
It was about deriving loads of fun from volunteering to run the handpump endlessly to fill buckets of water for everyone in
the house.
It was about roaming aimlessly around our fields and plucking chilies from our vegetable patch.
It was about plucking the guavas from the small trees of the village orchard and never having to run after that. We were allowed to get away with it being called ‘Seheri babus‘.
It was about watching the currency notes have no value for the purchases were mostly made in exchange of grains and this seemed interesting to us.
It was about sleeping on the terrace in the summer nights, lying down watching stars in clear night skies and figuring out constellations.
It was about witnessing a shooting star on one such night. Unforgettable, it will always remain.
It was about the excitement of cutting fodder in the machine for the buffaloes and Dadi forever cautioning in the background to watch for our hands from coming in contact with the cutting blades.
It was about sitting by the chulha in the winter nights to stay warm.
It was about the no electricity days and knowing how life was a big fun even without the lights, fans and the television.
The visual images still remain vivid in my mind.
I dream for such a childhood for my son. But, I know this will never be the same for him. The reasons are galore. For one, development has awakened my sleepy village from its stupor with electrification and automation. Now, nobody sleeps on the terrace but in fans and coolers. The halogen lights are so bright that the starry skies of the dark nights have vanished. The guava orchard is long gone because the aged fruitless trees had to be cut down.
The realisation is I can take my son to travel across the world but not to the village of my childhood. I can buy him a ticket to a farm situated on the outskirts of the city I live in, yet I will not be able to give him the experience of what it is like to own the place completely.
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Yes..Such a blissful, simple life!
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Very true.
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So true. I so wish I could for even a werk live the carefree days of childhood vacation visiting family in the “gaaon”. Not that my native place was ever a village, it was always a city but the simplicity of the life there, I still rememebr my grandparents not owning a refridgerator or even a TV and yet I had the best stuff there. Sigh.
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The word ‘gaaon’ feels very close to the heart. I know no fridge, no tv and yet life then was the best.
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Beautiful memories and sounds so warm with love and affection. Unfortunately, I have not seen a village and experienced that rustic life. I wish I could during my childhood. Your post makes me think how much I desired such a trip when I was growing up. Thank you for bringing back those days to my memory!
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The pleasure is mine Parul. Those were the best days of my childhood. The only aspect I miss is I do not have any photographs from those days apart from those in my memory.
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I agree – even I don’t have pictures when I was growing up so now I don’t miss clicking while growing old 😀
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Life was simple and exquisitely beautiful back then, wasn’t it? I have so many fond memories of us spending at our grandparents place, and when the cousins join us, it’s a different level of fun altogether. 🙂
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I had been to my granny’s home, a month back. This post brought to me all those memories. The greenery, the belongingness.. etc. Oh I am about to be nostalgic.
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Very true and this wonderful story touched my heart deeply…last year I went to my Granny s home in village and this article brought me all those precious memories…I vividly agree to this post …. Really those old days were gold …. The natural greenery and scenery fills my heart with joy and pleasure…. Memories are precious treasures. Although I am grown up and married but I am still attached to my golden memories . Iam as fond of my Granny as I was then and my old home there, that I find pleasure in recollecting the memories of days spent there ….. I love you Granny and of course my village and those splendid golden memories
…..
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I hear you Vandana. Anyone who has spent the carefree childhood in a village is bound to have nostalgia. Memories are indeed precious treasures. Thanks for visiting 🙂
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Being born and brought up in Bombay I missed out on experiencing these pleasures as well. Beautiful post, Anamika.
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Thank you, Mayuri, for reading this old post 🙂
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This summer I took the kids to our ancestral village. It’s close by so we were there for just about half a day but it was so much fun. They did almost all the things you’ve talked about. The hand pump was such a huge hit :-). We have so much in common Anamika.
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We do have lots in common between us, Tulika. However, this time it is your kids who have much in common with me 😀
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