This isn't an article. Rather, you can consider it to be a page from my travel diary which I never maintain, in spite of the fact that my visit to home itself could have filled several pages if I had one!
The start wasn't promising enough, with our flight getting cancelled. We did manage to get an alternative one, but we had to change flights in Delhi. The descent to Guwahati was the usual sight of betel nut trees and greenery with patches of blue here and there. I still wasn't sure of what I felt when I landed. The sleepless night had left me frequently drowsing throughout the journey. Maybe I just wanted to catch some rest. My brother and friend were making fun of my worry about the transfer of luggage from one flight to another. Well the term "worry" isn't something new to be associated with me! To add to it, I wasn't in a mood for fun. Maybe it was the usual chemical reaction in my brain for "change", however small this was, and that too a welcome one. I mean, this was the 15 days once-in-a-year vacation I always thrived for!
My worry turned into relief when I saw my brother's guitar being the first baggage on the conveyor belt. Our youngest mama had come all the way from Nagaon to pick us up. We stopped at our eldest mama's place for lunch. The meal was no less than a feast! Though I enjoyed it, I made the mistake of taking a little too much of bhut jolokia pickle in my plate (mama had placed a bet of 500 bucks to finish it; I lost!) and then later stick my finger to my eye to wear my lenses. Though I managed to put them on after multiple trials, I don't think my eyes ever burnt that much!
The drive to Nagaon brought a pinch of nostalgia. I re-travelled through the countable hills and numerous plains. I didn't forget the spot where the Ganesh mandir lay on the side of the hilly road and offered coins (this time, all I had in my wallet) from the car as usual. I tried to enjoy as much of the drive as I could, though I couldn't stop my eyes from drooping now and then. The not-so-smooth roads took me to my hometown in a matter of 3 hours.
After a good night's sleep in my late grandparents' home, I felt settled and content. There was good food and I had lots of people to take care of me and my comforts. I finally finished my novel and planned on starting to read the next one. Doing my 8 year old cousin's home assignment was the most enjoyable thing I did there. I had to stick some photographs on a chart paper which had strictly defined size limits. My cousin was quite apprehensive about the size I used, but I convinced him that every size has a tolerance value and this would be accepted. I also spent time with my youngest cousin who seemed over-enthusiastic about studies. The time spent with her was mostly involved in helping her do her homework (she'd have murdered me if I did it for her!), reciting rhymes, practicing the alphabet and (sometimes) playing. I helped my aunt with graphs and bar charts for her thesis work. And of course, there was the usual family gossip in store for me - more like an update of the last 6 months! I was given royal treatment.
Our Nagaon home was, as always, alive with the fragrance of the memories of aita and kaka. The town itself had an aura of freshness. I somehow felt that the air here was purer and the moon shone more brightly. Above all, I could see the stars! Whenever I go to Nagaon, I feel as if I have been transported back in time, to an age of narrow mud-tracks, shallow bamboo bridges, rickshaws, bicycles and thelas, bike speed never crossing 20, cows, mud stoves and Internet so slow that I had to scribble this post on paper. There was simplicity everywhere - the ideal break anyone would want from the air-conditioned cubicle.
Maybe I got really used to breathing the polluted city air, because Nagaon's clean air made me fall sick and I still had another journey to Aizawl. The two M's- Monsoon and Mountains don't get along. I could only pray to the rain gods to show their mercy on me and call it a holiday. I didn't want my flight to get cancelled. I couldn't possible take the 22 hours road trip to the Lushai Hills, how much ever I longed to go there. It had been a year since I visited the place I was brought up in. And my mother was waiting for me. I really wanted to go.
