The peaceful haven that I call home

I’ve been debating for the past three days if I want to do two similar topics back to back. But, my grandparents’ garden reminded me too much of the place I spent the earliest days of my childhood in: my little hometown at the tip of mainland India, peaceful and unadulterated, green and brimming with scenic landscapes. The neighborhood where I grew up is a tranquil haven, in the middle of coconut farms. Astonishingly, it remains the same even after all these years. If there is one place that I don’t see changing, it is there. The summers that I have been spending there literally transport me to another world, as different as can be from where I spend the rest of the year.

Imagine. You are on the way to my neighborhood from the town. Houses and stores line the road on either side. You then see a water channel ahead. As you cross the channel, the scene changes. A light breeze – neither too warm nor too cold caresses your face. There are coconut palms everywhere you look, dotted with a couple of houses here and there. The greenery is overwhelming and for a moment you wonder if civilization even exists here.  The vehicles speeding by are the only indication that people live there. You make a turn and enter the street where I grew up. You’d find more houses here and in the backdrop, more coconut palms. If you were to visit anytime between noon – 3pm or between 9 pm and dawn, you can be assured that you won’t see anyone outdoors. Apart from the crows cawing and the occasional moos from the coconut farm, it is as quiet as can be. But the mornings and evenings are the exact opposite, brimming with life: kids going to and coming back from school, playing outdoors and the vendors selling vegetables, milk, fish and whatnot. The place is a treat to look at, anytime of the day. But as you go into the farms, you discover wonders. My favorite among those is the narrow waterway that transports water from I’m not sure where to where. As the stream descends in height, it forms a miniature waterfall there. The noise of water gurgling is all you can hear apart from the occasional bird song.

What astonishes me is that the place remains virtually unchanged in the 16 -17 years of my life that I can remember. Yes, the technology invasion has touched my neighborhood too, but in spite of that life still continues there as it did all those years ago. Every year, when I go back home, I anticipate some sort of change but fortunately or unfortunately, everything remains the same and every single thing seems to be shouting, “Welcome back home!” My mom often says that every time you cross the water channel and enter the neighborhood, the breeze is always there to remind you that you are back home.