1.                                    An Obstacle in between my resident and the village.

No matter where one reaches in life, it is the root that counts, more than anything. I for one, I don' know if its emotionally- driven, feel that one should visit his ancestral home and parents once a year, atleast. As I grew up noticing the values people hold with regards to being in touch with their homeland and close ones, I always held this value with awe. r

It was January  2020 that I visited Langchenphu, Jomotsangka, my ancestral home land for  the last time. It was, infact on the occasion of my elder brother's wedding ceremony. My brother, after several deep pressures had agreed to get married formally. Even if it was not for the excuse of his wedding, I had already made up my mind that I would pay a visit to  my village,   meet my relatives and neighbors. 

Ever since I started experiencing life away from home- during my middle secondary schooling and college days, I  have had the privilege of knowing in depth the subtle pain that strike my mind. The choice-less dishes served in the boarder schools that, instead of adding fleshes, took off my flesh from the body, exposing apathetically small bones had always forced me to be home. However, the requirement on me to get an education to strengthen my life, like for many people,  had retained me; or else I would always want to be at home. Really!  

Why I love being home?

I don't have idea as to  what beckons you home, but for me, it's unfathomable and unheard call of my village; the expectation of my parents and neighbors and the immense happiness  on enjoying the vibes of homely feeling.  I love meeting my parents, grandma, uncles and aunts and cousins and of course  all everyone  in the  neighborhood. I love taking endless talks with them. I like being in their presence. I love visiting the old places that have remained in memories as an impressive one- they beckon me with separate level of attraction. When I visit home, I make sure I see and touch those old stuffs that made my childhood a time of joy. I go and see and celebrate the presence and  absence of   those bushes that once existed  above my house where my cousins, brother and I used to jump over in an  excitement that no more exist.   I visit the slope- top that was once just a play spot adorned with thick bushes and fruit trees which have been cleared and occupied by a rehabilitated person. Sometime I walk from one end of the terrace of paddy field that carry stubbles,  to another, recollecting the days in the past when my brother and I  used to run after the egrets shooting them with catapult. Other time I like to visit the spot containing  furrows after furrows, concealing ginger-rhizomes beneath the dying stems and leaves of ginger and perennial weed-grasses. 

As stated above, there are more than one reasons that would take us home.