Near the Indian Ocean towards the Southern part of the Indian Subcontinent, I hail from Seetharamapuram – a small village merely a few miles away from the coast line. Most of the families are farming dependent here, all hopes on the seasonal yield. Our village is thinly populated and most people speak in Telugu with a local slang, which makes it entirely different from the literary Telugu, few dialects and no other language is spoken here. 

Houses are made of bamboo /twigs and palm with cattle barns, called Kutcha Houses. Apparently, the basic amenities like schools, health centers were a dream for us. Overcoming all these constraints, there lies a loveliness in and around Seethapuram. 

The canvas of nature here has the river Krishna – one of the major perennial rivers surrounding my village, houses surrounded by lush green trees, touching the roofs of each house. The water canals running through the paddy fields make it more wonderful. Home is special for everyone, a little more when you are blessed with a serenity. The flora around my house still resides in my mind in the fragrance form. I grew up taking care of plants, ensuring proper nutrition from time to time. Slowly just from a task doing, it became a hobby.

Sleeping under the sky, enjoying the rustling. I grew up with happiness that came from the deep attachment to my village. The positivity of my villagers was my strength and continues to be my backbone support. I can name everyone through their vocals and all these people have helped me in knowing the importance of life and the unpredictability associated with it, hence enjoying it both outside and inside.

Nature had always been kind to me, amazing in every sphere of life, but the surroundings were not. I lived a great life which my parents chose for me by not letting anyone decide the fate of a blind, born to them. The life which could have been very different and miserable gave a reason to grow and be someone.

I was born blind. This news spread across the whole locality and my parents received numerous suggestions to abandon me. I will be a burden to my parents, everyone suddenly came up with this fact. This is the same village which has my whole memories intact. My parents refused to accept any well-wisher’s advice.

Agriculture was the only source of income at my home and my parents were only making living. As I grew up my parents were the strength of mine. They were less educated but made sure to educate me with the best in hands. They enrolled me in the nearest government school.

The days felt heavy when I started going to school. I had to cross a few miles to reach my school. I was not very welcomed in the school. As kids we are keenly interested in playing. But the perception was made about me that it’s not my cup of coffee to play with the other kids. I felt isolated, I was non-existing for most of the people around me. This repeated for almost 2 years when my parents decided to shift me to a school for blind in Hyderabad.

 I always wondered how the journey till school had become so difficult. Now I was away from my family, my comfort was with them. I struggled through so much, until the surroundings became favorable. I was anxious for my parents to send me so far away that I was an alien. The words anyone would speak were only gibberish to my senses. But as they say, when the tough gets going, going gets tough. My teachers at school helped me in overcoming all the hurdles of that moment and easy overcoming of the hardships. The language was the ultimate barrier for me, coming from a background where Telugu was spoken in a local dialect without any reference to literary Telugu, I was struggling through such basic things. I was weak in other languages, but was held and sailed through my teachers. My grammar was corrected, my speaking got improved with time.

Leaving all this came with a phase in life, when I moved for my formal education to a boarding school away from my family and my home. Adjusting away from family involved a great strength to focus on the studies. Initially I used to cry and put out my anger for my parents for not keeping me with them and sending me far off, where I have only the memories of home nothing more to fight the loneliness. Later I realized how my parents want me to succeed in life and be independent. This gave a hope, the hope of becoming better to make a greater better.

The only time I visited my home, my village, was during my holidays.

 And I loved my saviour, Holidays, which gave me a hope to go back home, enjoy all those little things I always loved doing. With all excitement, I always made sure to pack my belongings with the announcement of the final examination and break after that. I always wished to wake up to the chirping of birds, smell of the earth when it rains, cattle neck bells and the tidal bores. I faced an emotional hitch whenever I used to return to my hostel crying and thinking I will again have to wait until next holidays.

I used to wait for my holidays in January as it was special. Brought up in a farming family, the importance of crop harvesting and praying for a better yield every year was a ritual. Makar Sankranti, one of the most auspicious festivals celebrated all over India, is celebrated in January when the Sun marks its journey to Capricorn from the Tropic of Cancer and this is regarded as a good omen for crop harvesting. This festivity added more joy to my already joyful break. Following customs and traditions for 3 days it was always special to be present with your family and home.

Each day of the festival came with great reasons mentioned in the scriptures and mythology. Remembering the childhood days and the level of enthusiasm we carried. Not only kids and young ones but everyone from every sphere of age. The exchange of smiles and happiness, visiting relatives was all about the festivity. But the progressive world is taking away the importance of celebrations and people are modernizing themselves. When I last visited during my vacation, I found myself to be in a sad state to know that the old times celebrations have faded away and all are happily enjoying it on social media. I wonder will the coming generation ever know how it was for us?

This festival holds an important place in my heart because of numerous reasons, one of them being helping my mother in the kitchen especially when she cooked sweet dishes on Sankranti , especially Pongal. Pongal is made of new crop rice and brown sugar with clarified butter-Ghee with dry fruits to give an amazing taste. The food smells were so tasty that it automatically watered my mouth. I remember during the process of cooking how my mother and I talked about good and bad, new-old and all small things. A community cooking was considered a great procession making the occasion more special.

All these times when I was in school, I was doing well in studies. I was confident to excel in life. Growing up, I realized “My sight is gone, my vision is not”. I was excelling in studies and sports as well. I realized each day, how I was growing, how things are changing. I topped the matriculation exams, I was happy. More was I happy to know I would continue my studies in science dedicatedly. However, a hurdle was still to be jumped across. This time I had to take a stance for myself and the generations ahead, who might not be blessed with eyesight, but wanted to be independent. I was determined enough to fight for my justice. The Andhra Pradesh Board did not allow blind students to take up science after 10^th Grade and I only wanted to study science. Finally, fate was merciful, a long battle came to end and the government allowed the blind students to take science and study. It did strike me once, how the people before me would have struggled. These struggles through childhood till now have only strengthened me in every possible way.

I spent most of my time with my parents in my home. Also, the importance of focus, hard work and dedication was imbibed in me. I learnt the power of self-confidence. These all virtues came with listening to my parents.

While growing up, family importance became the solid rock to fight all the stances happening in and around your life. I always liked the time when I visited home during the holidays and hence all the fun I enjoyed at home. Sometimes the place and people associated define how much you will enjoy it.

However, the times have changed and no one even comes outside the house to talk, cooking together is a forgotten thing. Even my parents don’t want to have any cooking ritual unless the whole family is there.

 A famous quote says “To know people of a community, know their culture”, we have a rich heritage and culture which seems to like fading away with time.

My brother and I used to do our duties on the crop fields during the summer vacation. People come with their cattle for grazing in fields making it obvious about the risk of gazing through the crop of Black gram. Already hard job for me, but I made sure to accompany my brother and sit beside him.

We sat in fields and checked if any herd was coming towards the land. Eating together sitting beneath the coconut and palm trees. Another reason to love my village is to get coconut water so easily. I was very active when it came to plucking the coconut from the tree. Slowly climbing up, it was wonderful while going up the tree. I would feel the breeze near my ear. But I wondered, what was it like on top of the tree? The sea must be a large water body. Meanwhile my brother used to direct me stating how far I have to go to reach the top. Once I fell from a tree rustling in twisting of my leg and that made me think more than twice to climb up ever after that. However, I have stopped plucking it directly from the tree, but I make sure to drink coconut water every time I am home.

After I completed my Secondary education, I wanted to prepare for the prestigious institutes of India. But the struggle was yet not over. I was refused, rather not accepted, to take classes in the same room as other students for preparation of their examinations. No coaching institute wanted me as a student despite my previous results. Perhaps, what we don’t know God knows. And here began my journey as a First International student with sight disability. The mighty MIT was destined to be my alma mater. 

I was a foreign candidate and a place which was too much for me to adjust in terms of food, language, upbringing, environment and list goes on and on.

I always wondered, what the world looks like around me, has it been different on the other side of the word? Where my home is! I remembered each day spent with my family more than ever. I felt my home was the best place. A day sitting in the room, I thought, how my brother helped me pluck the best coconut by giving directions from the field and suddenly thought of having coconut water. I searched with my full potential to find the tender coconut and fresh coconut water in the US, during my graduation, but to my luck I could only find the frozen. Even sadder it makes me know I will not have the sweetness of mango here. Back in India, I would not stop until 4 in my stomach. This was the count per day, I stuck to generally when it came to enjoying mangoes. Here we have some colourful bunch, which I would term, as tasteless according to the Indian taste palate. This makes me feel that “Summers are for mangoes and Nostalgia” is the only memory of eating mango!

With each passing day I am learning the importance of my village, the freshness and how I found everything I wanted in that village. I drink milk, which is termed as frozen skimmed or whole milk, taking away the essence of how I was enjoying this back home. My father milks the buffaloes and I enjoy the sound and drinking fresh milk every day. The richness of that milk will always be superior to the refrigerated ones.

We Indians have a tendency to eat only after washing hands properly but now I am only left with an option to clean myself with some drops of liquid Sanitizer.

Relating my present summer vacations to the earlier ones, I am busy with internships and corporate visits. Always surrounded by machines and artificially cooling the weather to bear the summer, makes it very difficult to visit home and enjoy time with my parents. They feel the time that should be spent with them, is no more theirs. Milking with father, cooking with mother, being on fields with my brother is also fading and diminishing away with time.

Whatever the conditions were, I only learnt from it. The conditions that occurred were to nourish me in a way to be able to face the world alone and confident.

Each day playing different strings of memory in my head and revisiting each moment thinking how fast it changed. The weather, the people, my family and me, all have changed. The summers were as hot as now, but the breeze was cool too. River water was the natural swimming pool which relaxed the tiniest cell wanting some relief from heat. But now only we see buildings, dirty ponds and water bodies.

Technology has helped the human race to grow and be easy, not defying how humanity is being taken over by technology each and every day. We are happy to get everything readily available on our tables, but isn’t I parting from the environment?

A very famous south Indian dish is Dosa (Indian version of pancakes but thin), served with coconut chutney prepared at home, fresh and warm. I can name each dish which was prepared at home. Felt fresh eating everything. Now that I think of all these sweet memories of my childhood to become alive again, to be able to spend more time in my village and be able to witness everything again. I miss the food; the taste buds are eagerly waiting to feel the homemade food. 

I wonder if I will ever get the chance to go to my village and be as carefree and enjoy every moment in the lap of nature surrounding my home, my village and me. However, I think to myself, I may ever experience that life again. I will always smile, my heart will always feel good to rethink all the lovely days pend under the open sky and the shore reminding me, the sounds of nature. I loved how I never woke up before feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, proclaiming my laziness, sun and its rays were the friends who never wanted me to sleep as soon as they were around.

I was enjoying my life the best when I was at home, every one of us does that! But the moments I lived and loved, I never thought I would never be able to do it again. The only weather conditions I’m enjoying now are the air conditioners around me all day.

It’s the irony of life, you have to leave something to do better in life. For some of us, that something becomes our everything, Our Home. The chattering voices still backflips in my mind reminding me of the interaction I had with my family and villagers. Part of me still remembers details of every moment. Now the interaction I make throughout the day is with my Personal Computer.

You know? The joy of life is the memories created. 

As Keats had said “A thing of beauty Is joy forever” which is the essence of life and that resides in my home, my village.