Homecoming

Climbing down the bus I saw my old uncle walking down the steep valley to receive me at the station. As he walked towards me he said, “ Mahadevi, you still look the same like you were eight years ago, you are exactly like those 14 year old girls I used to teach at school. Why haven’t you grown up? You still look like a kid to me.”

And I realized why I travel long hours to visit that almost forgotten village to see my uncle and aunt, a village without internet and mobile networks: It’s because of the way I get to feel like a child again. It’s because I relive the life I had almost a decade ago, to see the beautiful sunrise between the mountains, to roam with my old uncle in search of our dog, to have the fun of shooing away monkeys from the fruit orchards, to sit and watch my aunt milk the cows, to be away from the busy real world, to live a life filled with beauty and peace.

In those two days I spent there, I realized how my village is my favorite place on earth. How it is the love of my uncle and aunt that calls me back there every time. I realized how love is what makes us do things….beautiful, crazy, stupid things.

Home...sweet home.

Home…sweet home.

{ For a reason that I don’t know, my uncle calls me Mahadevi since I was a kid. He’s the only one who calls me by that name. Mahadevi was the name of a great Hindi writer, and somehow my uncle thought that it suits me the best}

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