without identity
Sep 2010
It was a breezy early morning
where the sun is still hiding under the clouds, the bus is heading towards
Valvettithurai. The comfortable coach bus is travelling pass through the not so built road,
in fact a path created by stones. one side of the path is the sea and the other
side are the buildings mostly of one floor. My heart was racing to keep my feet
on the land. The land of my own. nearly after two decades I am returning to
this piece of land. My father is also accompanying me but its hundredth time
for him so the gleam in my eye is new to me and him. I do my usual habit of
taking video and photographs. Since I love to look back them I never hesitate
to take out my digital camera or Handy cam.
The bus which took us to our town
left us 20 feet from our house. Our house in fact it's my mother's house which
her dad gifted her during marriage. I and my father reach the house gate and
enter the big lawn in front of our house. Since the beach is nearby the grain sands
of the house is slightly white and shiny
pale yellow. I am in awe seeing the beauty of the location of the house. My
heart is filled with so much fond and the feeling of belonging there especially
in that place. It was the land of my mother and father and grandfathers,
grandmothers and forefathers. It was the land where my father and mother
started a beautiful family and was hoping to build their dreams. Fate always
had surprises to me and to my parents, we had to dislocate to another country. There
were political instabilities and my father was in a profession where he had to
move in and out of our own land. This was not an easy thing and he had issues
seeing his family when he returns to his country my parents decided to move out
to our neighbour land. Though we had to move to another country their sense of
belonging and mine towards Valvettithurai never faded. So here I am breathing
the air of freedom.
I do have some beautiful memories
for the time I Lived in Valvettithurai. Our school was near to the beach. Me and
my sister went for music class. Our temple was big and beautiful. At the
evenings we used to play on the streets, some interesting games which never of
the kids in this generation will play. Life was slow and I think I enjoyed
every bit of it, though there were sad memories. Sad memories include such as
running where a plane was dropping bomb shells and at one baby naming ceremony
I did see a coconut tree split by a shell of a bomb. other than few incidents
the life appeared to be beautiful. Our house was in a beautiful location and
the weather always favoured us. With a breezy wind all day and mild sunshine
our house was heaven for me. I also knew nothing about the outside world and
always had a feeling that I belong there and I am a complete product of this
place and this town. I have these feelings inside me even I get out of the
coach with my father.
I was eight years old when we
moved to India. At the thought of moving to new place was exciting and at that
age you couldn't care anything and nothing really bothers much and we just
follow our parents.
Life in India was new as there
was power all day and night. The entertainment themes were different. Back home
our grandfather plays a little radio around evening time to listen to movie
songs.
To be continued...........
