Skip to main content

Roots

Why are roots so important? Can't we just be an individual who needs no going back to roots.  Just like any story, which has a beginning to oscillate the course of a story, we have our roots, a feeble link which holds our life together.

It was in the year 1816, when a man decided he would carry out an adventure. Risking his life in the hills of Nepal which allowed him little scope altogether, he set on a journey. He had heard of Assam, about its river which made its land opulent. He wanted to try his luck. His dexterity coupled with his indomitable spirit led him to earn a fortune and a family. He had no formal education, but was educated enough to know what it meant to be educated. So, here you meet my great grandfather who has been kept alive among us through stories.

My ancestors, if I am to call them so occupy a clustered habitat in a remote village Gamiri, situated at Biswanath district of Assam. The one striking feature of this village is its well knit structure. We have a temple built by our ancestors passed onto us as a family heritage. On each Vijaya Dashami, the last day of Durga Puja, the village makes a call to journey back to one's roots from where our life has stemmed. Owing to the fact that there are more than fifty households at present, the people there decided to make their own convention. The rituals associated with 'dassai ko tiko' (blessing seeking ceremony) are carried out in the family temple. It's an annual affair which has kept people connected.

What interests me of all is the way people choose to hold on to their roots. We have a life here in Assam detached from Nepal, but we haven't yet detached ourselves from the customs which our ancestors taught us to believe in. I, as a child was always interested in stories, to which my grandfather would happily narrate events from the past in the form of stories. So, it is through stories that things travel, stories which are an undeniable part of people's life.

As a person who grew believing in the make-believe world fetched by the stories, I see it all. The journey through the hills towards the plains. A journey which set the course of our lives. On our visit to Nepal, my father pointed towards a hill and said, "Child, you would have been happily singing merry tunes here, had your ancestors not chose to travel to gift you a better life".  For a fleeting second, I was thrilled by the idea of having a life at hills completely detached from the modern world. A nomadic life is indeed rare but then we can't survive in a make-believe world, can we?



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...
2 comments
Read more

What do you want to be?

While I was in my 10th standard, almost everyone I met wanted to know what I wanted to be. This question always perplexed me. From the lens of a fifteen year kid who was not yet sure of the changes which awaited in the near future, this question gave me nightmares. I would constantly sit by the mirror and ask myself, what actually would be my answer. My friends always had fancy answers at their disposal. They would confidently chirp whenever any one asked about it. What amused me most was, my friend who had no inkling to study Biology wanted to be a doctor and another friend who detested the idea of even cooking noodles, wanted to be a chef! But whenever they spoke about their wishes, they would always sound confident. And there I was, fumbling for words which refused to escape my lips. It was not until I entered Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya to do my plus two, I found my voice. The teachers there have a different way of viewing life. For the first time, I no longer felt the classroom...
2 comments
Read more

Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents.  It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could...
2 comments
Read more