Something of Myself

'From time to time - and this is probably true of all people - there is a sentence that comes into my head, and the sentence is, "It's time for me to go back home now."

'Home is, I suppose just a child's idea. A house at night, and a lamp in the house. A place to feel safe.'

That was VS Naipaul - from an interview for the Guardian. After I have come to India and have managed to hook up with people the parties seem to be never ending. And after all the torture that my sinful liver goes through somehow the urge to write takes a backseat. But I have decided not to drink for a week at least after a night of lager, whiskey, tequila and rum (in that exact order).

Naipaul's words doesn't have a whole lot of relevance to what I am writing but I put it because - a) I thought it was brilliant b) I am technically "home" (or so I think) and can appreciate the beauty of N's thoughts.

Anyway, went to our village yesterday - was wonderful. Lush green khet (this is our Indian countryside, is it?), the cattle, birds, muddy roads, smell of earth, rivers, canals, huts and of course the people themselves - rural India, illiterate India, genuine India - the real India. My day was particularly made by a group of children who were playing cricket on a wet, muddy field with three stumps (which were painted white). Among them was this tiny chap who was fielding and at one point his anger at his fellow mate's misfielding would put Saurav Ganguly to shame! They were great - and what surprised me most was their knowledge about the game.

And then there was our home - amader paitrik baadi - the place where my great grand pa was born, and after him my grand dad and of course his children (including my father). The bunglow might be dipalidated now but it somehow speaks to me when I go there. Normally I am not at all moved by buildings and houses and concrete stuff but this house has a special place in my heart.

So much for the village.

Life here is going good. I no longer think of UK though I watch the English Premiership with an avid interest. The friends that I have left there are "friends" - beyond definitions of boundaries and borders - thus I remember them, miss them. However, some of the friends that I have made here keep me quite occupied. These guys are different from the general Indian youth. This is because I personally feel that the Indian youth (middle class and upper middle class) has lost all its sense of ..... well, never mind...who am I? Does it matter? (I wonder).

Going off to my aunt's place day after. Won't be back until the next saturday. This time around I am yet to be moved by Calcutta. Sounds strange but it is true. Calcutta has changed a lot. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that it would....but it has, and it will...My image of Calcutta was a constant one, unchanging and therefore flawed. But somewhere deep in my heart I wish I could get a glimpse of my old city, my companion, my lover and my best mate. I am confident that I will strike the same chord which was there when I left this place four years back - it's just a matter of time.

With time I will change, like Calcutta...and I will break through my cocconed perception of my own city. Our city. As of now, Naipaul will keep me busy.