The three wheeled auto screeched through the newly and unevenly tarred narrow lanes, still slick with oil. It eventually halted where the oily modernity halted. A 6.5 cent plot of land, enclosed by a cement wall, with a mini-jungle inside. It was noon and two dishevelled individuals got out of the auto. A middle aged gentleman and a young kid. A trolley-bag followed.
"Why do you want to go to India, Kishore?"Anu sounded annoyed.
"It's been some some time. I want to check the property, once in a while." He replied.
"Why do you hang on to that small fragment of land? It's a small plot. And for that, you want to go every one year. I don't mind your trips but you are wasting a lot of money and time."
"Come on. It's Rahul's vacation as well. Let him see his extended family."
"Really now? You have never bothered to keep in touch with them, except for your uncle and you want him to see all of them?"
"Ahm, Dad? Are we supposed to camp out here?"
"No, kiddo. Your great-uncle lives nearby. We'll be going there."
He took a look around. Three years had passed, since he last visited this plot. Things had already changed a lot. The lane had been re-tarred. New houses had come up and very few vacant plots were left in the area.
"Awesome. Now, we both get to go to the US of A. And, that too, jobs in the same city." Anu could hardly contain her excitement.
Kishore smiled.
"You don't look too happy, Kis-o?"
"Nothing. You do know that I have a thing for memories. It breaks my heart to actually leave this place behind."
"I know." Anu came closer and gently kissed his forehead. "But, it's a necessity. You are lucky to have a supportive family. I need to be away from mine for some time."
"Yes. Yes. I know. And to add to it, you want to look towards the future and leave the past behind."Kishore winked.
"Haha. Yes. I do. There are a million things out there. Miles to go, no? Nostalgia can wait until we loose our teeth and wrinkle our faces."
"Daad, I am hungry."
"Whaat? You just ate like half an hour ago."
"I spent it all on that autorickshaw ride."
"Pinnaee."Kishore grinned as he waded through the weed that had grown around. He inspected and uprooted a plant. He had asked his cousin to plant some tapioca there. His cousin had took his words to heart. This one had been planted recently and the result was nothing short of spectacular. He suddenly heard some joyful shouts from across the neighbourhood. Rahul went and peered through the cracks in the wall. Kishore moved towards him.
"Haha. So you. To come here after, exactly 10 years."Anu remarked.
"Big attitude eh? Why did you tag along then?"
"Aah, Kis-o. Chekkane kandu veenu poyille. Pyaar, mohabatt and all that. What can I do? I have to tag along."
Anu shoved Kishore and ran.
"Aha. Who exactly is the kid here?" Kishore shouted as he ran behind her, along the Rajpath strewn with dried leaves.
They had both studied at REC-Calicut. Today, it was called NIT-C. But, he somehow felt that things hadn't changed much around there.
Colours were flying around. It took Kishore by surprise. Holi. That's one festival he did not expect to see, being celebrated with gusto in this neighbourhood. He wondered whether there were any North Indian families settled around here or whether India's heterogeneous cultures were seeping in and mixing together just like he, at the heights of his idealism, believed it would.
"What's happening, Dad?"Rahul asked. His big eyes widened at the sight of all the colours.
"They are playing Holi. It's an Indian festival. I'll tell you the story behind it later. You go play with them."
"But, my clothes?"
"I never liked your mom's selection anyway. Now, go. Shoo"
He gave a friendly wave to the other kids. They waved back.
Holi. His mom was a Gujarati while his dad was a quintessential Mallu. This meant that he usually celebrated more number of holidays than the average kid around in Trivandrum.
"And, so I fell in love with Trivandrum and your dad. "his mom finished the story for the umpteenth time. He did not mind the repetitions. He loved seeing the way her eyes sparkle as she recollected the bits and pieces. She was watering the anthuriums that she had planted in the plot.
"You know. We bought this plot for you because you wanted to come back here one day."
"I know, Amma. You needn't have. I would have bought a plot of land myself later. There was no need for you to have bought it now. "
"Land prices will shoot up eventually. Maatramalla, it's something from your dad and me to you. We have always loved this place so much."
The land that his mom and dad had loved that much. He had been reading some of the Indian newspapers early morning in his flight to Trivandrum. Rapes. Hindutva. Jihad. Oppression. Poverty. It reminded him of Hirschmann's theory of voice or exit. People like Anu shunned the bad and the good memories and went away in search of a better future, never bothering to look at their painful or maybe uninteresting or even a happy past. He had a different perspective on that past versus future debate. He wasn't sure whether he was right. Sometimes, he stubbornly resisted change. He wondered why he came back. Maybe, it was because he was an optimist. He believed in voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rahul and the other kids running towards him with buckets. They were soaked in mud.
This land, where he found friends that lasted for a lifetime, where he fell head-over-heels in love and then ended up with a bitter heartbreak and then found love again in an old friend. This land, which made him a communist, with scant respect for oppressive traditions . Yet, this land, which made him fall for outdated and heart warming ideals. This land, that his dad and mom loved with all their hearts.
Rahul let out a yell and threw the mud at him. A small and high-pitched yell. The voice of a new generation, who should be given the choice to develop their individual stories in a land that they could call their own, despite its imperfections.
The mud ricocheted off the cement wall and splashed all over his polo t-shirt. He grinned, jumped over the wall and ran behind the kids who broke off in different directions.
"Why do you want to go to India, Kishore?"Anu sounded annoyed.
"It's been some some time. I want to check the property, once in a while." He replied.
"Why do you hang on to that small fragment of land? It's a small plot. And for that, you want to go every one year. I don't mind your trips but you are wasting a lot of money and time."
"Come on. It's Rahul's vacation as well. Let him see his extended family."
"Really now? You have never bothered to keep in touch with them, except for your uncle and you want him to see all of them?"
"Ahm, Dad? Are we supposed to camp out here?"
"No, kiddo. Your great-uncle lives nearby. We'll be going there."
He took a look around. Three years had passed, since he last visited this plot. Things had already changed a lot. The lane had been re-tarred. New houses had come up and very few vacant plots were left in the area.
"Awesome. Now, we both get to go to the US of A. And, that too, jobs in the same city." Anu could hardly contain her excitement.
Kishore smiled.
"You don't look too happy, Kis-o?"
"Nothing. You do know that I have a thing for memories. It breaks my heart to actually leave this place behind."
"I know." Anu came closer and gently kissed his forehead. "But, it's a necessity. You are lucky to have a supportive family. I need to be away from mine for some time."
"Yes. Yes. I know. And to add to it, you want to look towards the future and leave the past behind."Kishore winked.
"Haha. Yes. I do. There are a million things out there. Miles to go, no? Nostalgia can wait until we loose our teeth and wrinkle our faces."
"Daad, I am hungry."
"Whaat? You just ate like half an hour ago."
"I spent it all on that autorickshaw ride."
"Pinnaee."Kishore grinned as he waded through the weed that had grown around. He inspected and uprooted a plant. He had asked his cousin to plant some tapioca there. His cousin had took his words to heart. This one had been planted recently and the result was nothing short of spectacular. He suddenly heard some joyful shouts from across the neighbourhood. Rahul went and peered through the cracks in the wall. Kishore moved towards him.
"Haha. So you. To come here after, exactly 10 years."Anu remarked.
"Big attitude eh? Why did you tag along then?"
"Aah, Kis-o. Chekkane kandu veenu poyille. Pyaar, mohabatt and all that. What can I do? I have to tag along."
Anu shoved Kishore and ran.
"Aha. Who exactly is the kid here?" Kishore shouted as he ran behind her, along the Rajpath strewn with dried leaves.
They had both studied at REC-Calicut. Today, it was called NIT-C. But, he somehow felt that things hadn't changed much around there.
Colours were flying around. It took Kishore by surprise. Holi. That's one festival he did not expect to see, being celebrated with gusto in this neighbourhood. He wondered whether there were any North Indian families settled around here or whether India's heterogeneous cultures were seeping in and mixing together just like he, at the heights of his idealism, believed it would.
"What's happening, Dad?"Rahul asked. His big eyes widened at the sight of all the colours.
"They are playing Holi. It's an Indian festival. I'll tell you the story behind it later. You go play with them."
"But, my clothes?"
"I never liked your mom's selection anyway. Now, go. Shoo"
He gave a friendly wave to the other kids. They waved back.
Holi. His mom was a Gujarati while his dad was a quintessential Mallu. This meant that he usually celebrated more number of holidays than the average kid around in Trivandrum.
"And, so I fell in love with Trivandrum and your dad. "his mom finished the story for the umpteenth time. He did not mind the repetitions. He loved seeing the way her eyes sparkle as she recollected the bits and pieces. She was watering the anthuriums that she had planted in the plot.
"You know. We bought this plot for you because you wanted to come back here one day."
"I know, Amma. You needn't have. I would have bought a plot of land myself later. There was no need for you to have bought it now. "
"Land prices will shoot up eventually. Maatramalla, it's something from your dad and me to you. We have always loved this place so much."
The land that his mom and dad had loved that much. He had been reading some of the Indian newspapers early morning in his flight to Trivandrum. Rapes. Hindutva. Jihad. Oppression. Poverty. It reminded him of Hirschmann's theory of voice or exit. People like Anu shunned the bad and the good memories and went away in search of a better future, never bothering to look at their painful or maybe uninteresting or even a happy past. He had a different perspective on that past versus future debate. He wasn't sure whether he was right. Sometimes, he stubbornly resisted change. He wondered why he came back. Maybe, it was because he was an optimist. He believed in voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rahul and the other kids running towards him with buckets. They were soaked in mud.
This land, where he found friends that lasted for a lifetime, where he fell head-over-heels in love and then ended up with a bitter heartbreak and then found love again in an old friend. This land, which made him a communist, with scant respect for oppressive traditions . Yet, this land, which made him fall for outdated and heart warming ideals. This land, that his dad and mom loved with all their hearts.
Rahul let out a yell and threw the mud at him. A small and high-pitched yell. The voice of a new generation, who should be given the choice to develop their individual stories in a land that they could call their own, despite its imperfections.
The mud ricocheted off the cement wall and splashed all over his polo t-shirt. He grinned, jumped over the wall and ran behind the kids who broke off in different directions.
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