For almost the past 3 decades I have seen this place... a small town, drenched with middle class values, crowded with people who know you or expect you to know them. Can't change a few things around us like the folks one is born to and the colour of the skin. Think about it, though born into one religion, one can eventually choose a religion or a spiritual line best suited for oneself... people knew it and thats why they brought in the concept of tribe and caste to keep us pinned to the floor or the sky and managed to keep some dangling in between. Then the one's who braved to surpass that too climbed the class ladder denying the virtue deemed upon them. At the end of the day, my nest, though unacceptable, seems to be this small town which I am neither able to deny nor adjust too... Yeah, my identity rests here yet I am a citizen of the world.
Having travelled quite a bit, I often have felt that this small town though nauseating, is the safest abode on Earth. No one bothers you unless you bother them. WoMen don't roam around like lost souls or diggers for male company on the streets once the street lights are on and it still is obvious. Oh by the by, woMen don't let their hair loose too... supposed to be "prostitutes" who don't tie their hair. The little shackles and those little tin shops have not changed, the people working there have not changed and they still recognize me and welcome me just as they did when I used to be there during my younger days... they surprized me by asking about my friends too. There is a shop I went to have parattas yesterday and I remember the guy who makes them who killed a rowdy in that area when I was in school... he is still there and still makes the parattas... everything seems the same.
Now the issue is that nothing changes. Nothing changes even for good. Now thats the issue. People hoard... money, jewels and land. Territorial I suppose. People are critics or snubbers of criticism rendered upon them... the others in between are treated as inbetweens (eunuchs).
Here, the grass is clean, the mountains really tense, the valleys really deep, the water crystal clear and pure, the beaches soft, the waves gushing and the rains frequent... a metaphor to the emotions of the people here as well.
Much can be said about this place... however, I am glad that I atleast have a nest and an identity that comes along with it. A place where one can be lonely in a crowd and feel dense even when alone. It heals as much as it inflicts pain. Where do I run away to from here? Where to? Have tried it several times only to return with humility over and over again.
Bottomline: "When you finally go back to your hometown, you find out it wasn't the old hometown you missed but your childhood" Sam Ewing