This is the chronicle of big cities and smaller towns, through the eyes of a small town girl who
grew up to be a small town adult. With the little experiences in big as
well as small corners of this beautiful country, the kaleidoscope of life now is a
colourful and exciting one.
I was born in Ranchi, which during those days, years and years before it went on to become a capital city, was a small hilly town. We had a cosy quarter in the Heavy Engineering Corporation township and days were bright and evenings were filled with lots of friends and neighbours. With no television around, each evening, a visit to the market or to some friend’s house was a routine. Life moved at a small pace and at small pace did we crisscross the roads, red gravelled and metalled ones since there was no means of transport other than our never tired feet. Later in life, a simple lambretta scooter and later Hamara Bajaj entered the life, the pace remained slow, nevertheless. Simple was the life, simpler were the needs and we grew up with a light in the eye which had a beautiful shimmer and never a flashy one.
My first job took me away to a smaller place, a
small block called Barhi in the Hazaribagh district. There I shared the house with my team members. Our house was right in the middle of a
bustling market and on the Grand Trunk Road.
In a radius of a kilometre, we had everything we generally wanted: the
office, the vegetable market, the Block Office (from where we fetched our
drinking water). At times an evening
visit to nearby Tilaiya Dam to soak our tired feet was a bonus and yes, our
cooking gas cylinder had to be procured from the nearest town Jhumri Tilaiya, a
beautiful town by the river Damodar. This
little place had the electricity for only half the year and the rest of the
year, moonlight, oil lamps and open terrace were there for rescue. Ofcourse, Ghulam Ali Saab was always there.
We did live like queens in the little
town. Our neighbours were the Block
Development Officer and the Sub Divisional Police Officer. Being in one of the prestigious
organisations, we were in no time quite known in that block town of Barhi.
We often visited the only cinema hall that
Barhi had. It was just behind our house. Just before the show, the cinema hall in
charge would place some school benches and then issue the tickets. We carried our tea and mosquito repellent
coils to the hall and always were offered the best of the benches, the front
seats (yes, in the hall in Barhi, the front seats were prestigious ones).
A job then took me to the cultural and
educational town of Kalyani in Nadia district, West Bengal. Once again, office was just a km away and all
I needed was available just around the house I lived in. A plush traditional Bengali House with a
generous, elegant landlady made my stay so blissful. I had three big rooms, a huge dining space
and an equally big kitchen to all of myself.
Whenever my parents visited me, they would shop for fresh vegetable from
the market and treat me to the best of Bengali cuisines. The town’s life as well as mine revolved
around the posh Central Park. Small
though it was, there were three local railway stations in the town, given the
fact that it housed some important industries and educational institutes.
Life, though simple, the pleasures were not
very little. From winter fete to Usha
Utthup to Srikanto Acharya and Manna Dey, we had all, all the pleasures of
watching the legends on stage.
My next stay was at Shajapur, again a 1-km
radius district town, which you may not even have heard of. Little towns have big hearts, I realised.
Most of us knew each other and help arrived at just one phone call. Here I did not even have to go to office, my
residence was the office and early mornings were spent in visit to the villages
in the project area. The little town had
the most beautiful and elegant ladies I have ever known; they were always very
well groomed and gave us a lesson or two on it.
My landlady and her family lived right in the first floor while I
occupied the ground floor. Often from
upstairs, she would ask me to join them for dinner and I, with whatever cooking
would be done, would rush upstairs and have a sumptuous dinner with them.
My house was adjacent to the railway
station. Twice or thrice a day a train
would arrive at the sleepy station. The
dust would fly announcing the arrival and the giant could be seen meandering
from a distance. I would book my tickets
for my weekly travel to Dahod, across a single window, where one person doubled
and tripled as the ticketer, guard, station master. Occasionally we would visit the nearby Ujjain
to get some things for ourselves; otherwise the little town fulfilled all our
needs, small as they were. Three of us
colleagues would hop onto a Luna and visit the cinema hall, escaping the prying
eyes of the traffic police and at times requesting him, “Uncle jee..jaane do
na”
We shifted to Ujjain just after a year, exactly
before the Kumbh Mela of 2004. Though
Ujjain is an important pilgrimage, the city itself has a small town feel where life
moves at its own pace where the common reply to all your requests would be,
“Hau didi..ho jaayega ni..” and it would take its own time. There is no hurry for anything. So we too immersed
ourselves in the flow of Ujjain Standard Time and moved, blissfully. We
experienced the Kumbh Mela, a very efficiently managed macro event, we
witnessed the Kalidas Academy festivals, visited the beautiful temples of
pilgrimage, had our home filled with guests, neighbours, family members; we
were so busy in all these. We were so busy in the drama of life and enjoyed it
totally. Ujjain is a place where there is a festival everyday, infact Ujjain
celebrated LIFE. In Ujjain did our
daughter come home and so the celebrations multiplied. We were so much in love
with this temple town that we named her Avantika (Avantika Nagari being one of
the names of the town).
A transfer order from Head Office brought me
and my family to Anand, the milk capital of India: once again a to 2-3 km
town. Life again confined itself within
a small campus which houses my office, home, child’s school, crèche, utility
store and also an Auditorium which screens recent movies on Sundays. Only occasionally one needs to venture out
for more supplies in kitchen, wardrobe and may be to luxury. The campus is a place where I don’t have to
worry about my child playing out while I am in office. I don’t have to worry when its getting dark
and she has not returned, knowing she may be dining at some neighbors' place. The home, always teeming with
children may not be the best well kept one but I am sure, is the happiest one
with all the laughter of friendly little neighboring children. We do not shut
our doors here, we do not worry here. In
fact we at times are also concerned that living in such a protected environment, our
children would have no worldly wisdom; oblivious to the hustle bustle outside, the children will not even learn to cross the streets. Railway station is just 2 km
away and I have never known the perils of travelling long way to office or to
station.
At times I do feel that these towns have ushered me to a comfort zone, from which it may be painful to get out. However, as long as we are, where we are, the small little places are growing and taking charge on the entire personality and I am enjoying it totally. In every aspect, I am a now small town person.
Not that I really dislike the speed and adventure of the metros. I do and I have experienced, of which I shall write in my next note.
Photographs: From Internet
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