Village is needed
by Rahul Verma
December is about to pass. Mustard yellow flowers bloom on both sides of the trail. Village mornings are very early. These mornings wrapped in thick fog are very quiet. The bird has flown from its nest. People are gathered next to the bonfire. And hot debate is happening in the cold. The women of the house are busy cooking. It is eight o'clock and the soft sunlight is coming into the room through the window. The movement at the gate outside has increased a bit. Mother came and woke up three times and started her work. Alsai Si I get out with a brush. Drops of dew have fallen on the mustard yellow flowers. Moderate cold winds are blowing. While sitting near the bonfire, I brush my eyes only when my eyes are fixed on the blue sky. Clean serene blue sky and a flock of birds flying over it. The voice of Sugge sitting on a Neem tree in front was melting in the atmosphere. After brushing, taking tea, I sat on the terrace in the sun. The children start running from the morning on the adjacent gum. In such a cold, many are here and there all day without slippers and hot clothes. Far from the roof, the velvet greenery of the fields is seen. I feel that the village has changed a lot when I remember the bygone days. Today, where this house is, there was our ghotha (cows' place). And grandfather used to live there. He used to come home to eat just in the morning and on any other need during the day. From where my childhood memories begin, I remember that my feet never stayed at home. I used to run and reach there as soon as my eyes opened. This distance is about a hundred steps. There she would sit on a cot under a neem tree. Some other people of the village used to come and sit while bathing Baba. They would recite the Bhagavad Gita. Then I held her hand and came back home. If they ate food, I would sit and then go back with them. At the behest of Mother, she started teaching us. Me and didi go with him. There, he would dissolve us in a blackboard, a reed pen and a brewery in Dawat. We would write the letters of the Hindi alphabet on it with a big heart. He was the Principal, so many times we would visit his school too. While coming back, I would sit on his shoulder and Sister would hold his hand. And then I do not know how many such memories of pictures started emerging on the walls of my mind. And the sleep was broken when the voice came down to eat.
Every day I stayed, taking a little time every day, used to go to the old house. At the distance of a hundred steps, where everyone used to live together. And today, due to all the needs, there are here and there, sometimes they are together now. The place that used to live so much now seems to be completely deserted. It is not known when you spend time talking to aunt, manni and sanatan. I used to think how big this house was earlier. Then I was small and now how small. The house has a large courtyard in the center and rooms around it. There was a room in which the grandmother lived. And we too. When we used to come to the village with my father during the holidays, there would be different joy. This time grandmother also left. And our share was given the never ending affection. Now the lock is locked in that room. Whichever part of this house I used to go to and every time I used to go, the memories flashed in front of my eyes. Memories are imprisoned here and the key is lost somewhere over time. I think what will happen when someday this old house with my childhood memories will fall. And instead it will become a very beautiful luxurious house. Then I will be satisfied to think that change is the rule of the world, but where will I come to find these childhood memories.
The village has really changed a lot. The footpaths have now turned into paved roads. And these paved roads lead from village to city. Do not know why the city does not come from the village. Some of the population still lives in the villages. But the biggest thing is the peace in the village, the neighborhood, the happiness, the life.
Just like the elderly people are necessary for the house, the villages are also needed for the same people. Think what will happen on that day when you get tired of your cities, in spite of all the comfort, your mind will remain empty and the glare of the city will run to take you, where will you run? Returning that day to the villages again. The vacant village is waiting for you as the elders of the house are waiting for the son who has gone to earn a foreigner. And believe it when you return, neither will it accept you. Because this is a village. I am illiterate in your language but only love lives here.
With the sun rising, I used to come back to the new house with Manni and Sanatan and after staying here for a while, they would go back.
At eight o'clock, when everyone ate and went to his room after baking the bonfire, the elder mother and mother would often go out and sit near the bonfire for a while. I also go. Cold was falling from above and I used to look at Dhaval Moon from Neem's clump. The sky was filled with stars. Cities are crowded on the ground, stars do not appear on the sky. Here the sky is full of stars and the earth is empty. And that is relaxed.