My Village My Home

“Borivali – You stay in Borivali – That’s like staying in a village, isn’t it” – exclaimed a friend of mine once. “I mean it’s like the suburb of the suburbs, the forgotten soil, the land of the ‘padas’. How could you even grow up there?”

“Well”, I retort, “I just completed 20 years of this so called ‘village’ life and I’ve loved every moment of it. Let me to take you on an unabridged tour of this village of mine.”

So, a week later, we set out on a sight see of the place. I first took him to my school, since he wanted to see the place which had contributed most to my life. After checking it out, he quirked, “Ok, it’s a great place, up on a serene hill with a lush green surrounding, but in the end, it’s just a primitive girls school which lacks a great deal of finesse and charm. I can actually hear the boredom and monotony resounding all around.

“You hear boredom and monotony”, I remarked, “ while I hear poetry and theorems moulding my young mind, the excitement of my class which won the debate, the sobbing of my peers on losing the elections, the laughter of my gang which binds us even today, after more than a decade. You see the need for sophistication while I see the simplicity and self respect my alma mater imbibed in me.

We then headed home and he suddenly exclaimed – “Look at these roads – so narrow, crowded and dirty, dug up in most places, no footpaths. People everywhere, no place to even walk freely. By the way, is concrete allergic to this place?”
I laughed at that and said – “You see dust on these roads while I see footprints of my best friends and I, taking long walks, sharing our dreams, our achievements, crying our broken hearts out. I see tire marks - of cycles we rode in college, of my car as it screeched on these roads, my first driving arena. You see narrow crowded paths, I see friends enjoying themselves at the vada pav and pani puri vendors, taking pleasure in these simple moments which will form lasting memories.

Later on, relaxing at home, he leaned towards me and whispered, “I like your home, it’s really cozy and neat, but be honest – wouldn’t you have rather lived in a much larger, spacious, sprawling home with a room to your self, more privacy, more space?”
“Maybe”, I replied, “But this small home has taught me important lessons in life. The one bedroom we siblings shared taught us how to make the most of what we have; the one TV set we fought over taught us that sharing and adjustments are an integral part of life. The non stop chit chat and noise in my home convinced me that no matter how far I journey; there would always be a haven to return to. If my life races ahead like a Ferrari, my home is the garage I return to, battered and bruised, ready to give me a total overhaul.

And as the visit drew to an end, my friend smiled at me and said “If this village has given you such proud moments, if the fond memories here makes time stand still for you, then all I can say is – You are one lucky village belle!!!”