Page 229 - Reliance Foundation School Koparkhairane - School Magazine - Zenith

A TRIP DOWN THE DUSTY GALIS

Tucked deep into the district Ambala close to the town of Naraingarh,

Haryana is my native village. Called ‘Baragaon’, or ‘Big Village’, it is a pretty
small village. With only a population of about four thousand. Brought up in

a city like Mumbai with about 1.84 crore people, I always felt a sense of awe
whenever I visited my village.

My grandfather along with my uncle and his family shifted to the town of
Naraingarh six years ago. It’s a 15-minute walk from Baragaon. It has been
more than a year since I last visited my grandfather. But on my last trip to

Naraingarh, I decided to pay a visit to my dear village.

I was merely twenty-one days old when I first visited my grandfather in

Baragaon. Since then, I used to visit him twice a year. In recent years, the
vacations have been reduced to once a year. I remember as much of my life

in that village as I do of my life in Mumbai.

Visiting Baragaon after about 3 years brought back tons of memories. My

first memory of being in the village is of the time I went there during Summer
in the year 2007. I remember lying on the Charpai under the huge Neem tree

in my grandfather’s courtyard. It was scorching hot and electricity cuts in the
village were as common as vada pavs in Mumbai. Yet somehow , using a
hand-fan while lying under the Neem’s shade felt cooler than under an AC

back in Mumbai.

My grandfather’s old house was getting rebuilt now by the new owner. Last

I remember, the plot in front of his house was empty and filled with sand.
Now, a new house was under construction there. I can recall my neighbours.
I used to call one of our neighbors ‘Baba’. He was an old fellow of about 70

at the time. He owned a tractor which he used to transport the harvest from
his farms back and forth.

What I love the most about the village was that everyone knew everyone. I
came by t he shopkeeper of the confectionary store near my grandfather’s

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