In the summer vacations during my first year of college, I made a memorable trip to the countryside and recorded some of my thoughts in a journal I was maintaining then. I recently stumbled upon that journal once again, so I am sharing a young boy's experience of gracious hospitality that he experienced.
I always write my own posts. I do not copy content. That's why it requires a lot of ideas. A lot of thinking. But today, it was hard to come up with ideas. So, I decided to take a stroll outside. Just to get some fresh air and to open up my mind.
So, I started from my house and had barely walked some distance when I happen to meet my gardener. His name is Kailash - the name of the sacred mountain. He is good natured. He invites me to his home which is a few kilometers away down the countryside. With nothing else to do, I accept his offer.
We start our march to the countryside. Leaving the smooth township roads we come upon the uneven and dusty path of the village.
Its a wonderful contrast. To leave the big buildings, honky vehicles and bustling crowd of the town and to come upon the peace and quiet of the rural side was appeasing to say the least. Soon the stench of soil mixed with that of cow dung fills my nose and my brain goes "welcome to the real India!" I skip a step many a times. Several times my ankle twists and turns unaware of the rocky path which my legs are treading upon. My knees buckle but somehow my spirit and Kailash's company has me walking. His words keep me busy. We cross the fields, an abandoned farmhouse, railway tracks, a canal and some ditches.
After walking a little over two miles we reach his home. His home is a semi-pukka building with the walls of bricks and the roof of tin enforced by tarpaulin. It has electricity bulbs and connection. But electricity graces his house only after 8 in the evening. His wife welcomes us. He has two little children. I ask them their names. "Arvind" says the bigger one. "Vishal" pops the second one. Both have two or three milk teeth missing.
He has a cow, a buffalo and calf. The cow and the buffalo are content, chewing their meal. The calf agitates. He doesn't like to be chained. His neck-ring chimes constantly.
Kailash springs up a charpayee for me to sit on. I rest myself without complaining. My legs are aching and my ankle is sore. Soon some neighbors gather to welcome me. Simple people are these rural folks. They welcome even a stranger with open arms. I feel privileged. Somewhat like asarpanch or the village head addressing a small crowd. I greet them all. Ask a few of them about life. "Sab Badhiya hai aapki krupa se" (Everything is fine with your grace).
"Bas ab bacche kuch padh likhkar ho jayen to mehnat safal ho jayegi..." ( Now if only the children study and become something in their life, then my hardwork will be rewarded.) Kailash says.
In no time I am served with a delicious meal. I wonder how fast his wife can cook. Or has the time passed so fast.....
The food is hot and spicy. It burns my throat. I soon have a running nose. But I don't complain. Thank god there is no electricity or he would have been embarrassed. I wipe away my tears and nose with the help of the corner of my sleeve. I feel like Rahul Gandhi eating a meal in the house of a villager. Except the fact that there is no media around here to take my photo or report it in the newspapers - and I am no Gandhi.
We are done eating. I drink some water and wipe my face. The water was sweet, as were my hosts. I stand up to leave. I fold my hands and take their blessings. I came humbled, I part humbled.
I am indebted to Kailash and I must repay this debt soon. Again after a little over two mile walk, he leaves me at the town's gates and returns home. I watch his silhouette disappear in darkness. I come home.
My mother wanted to wash away the dirt off my shoes. I refuse her to do so.
"Its the dust of my country. It will fade away."
