I have been travelling around for the last forty days I suppose. Right now I am in my Grandmother’s place. A small but loud town not too far from the India Bangladesh border. I am visiting after four years. We used to stay in a village earlier but with the younger generation having little or no interest in ancestral land and disputes, the village property was sold off recently for a more comfortable town living. I have spent many long childhood summers in my grandmother’s village. We miss the peace. The space. The open fields. The sound of the evening train that would echo loud in the silence of the countryside bliss.
The town we are in is a far cry from the village. But it is not any close to the city bustle either. There are no malls to kill time in, no gardens, the women here go for their evening walks at the railway station. It was an interesting detail that was brought to our notice when we were seeing off some close relatives at the station yesterday. “Because this is the only place they can go for their walks”, an uncle said matter of factly.
We even saw middle aged men in their walking shoes walking along the platform. The study of those around you always makes for interesting details.
I was supposed to be travelling today, but I am unwell. So the only best way to spend the day was with books and music. It was actually super fun, listening to amazing music, wrapped cozily in a blanket. Soon my mind wavered to reading. Two Agatha Christie novels down (they are like quickies), I decided to blog.
I cannot wait to get on my traveling shoes again. The slow sweet renewed realisation feels good – that there are only three things that are priceless in life 1. Books 2. Music 3. Travel. Not in that specific order.