I am in the middle of a familiar trip once again. I am back in my hometown, the place where I grew up, the place that I departed many years ago when I was still a young laddie. It is a place I departed without a second thought, without hesitation. I am back to visit the folks I left behind, my parents.
Last time I came to India, I fell quite sick on my way back home. One might ask: why is one silly enough to take a risk once again, so soon after the previous experience. Perhaps only the heart knows,
But this is also a different kind of trip – a meeting once again of the generations. It is the determination of the young people – my children who are traveling with me – to visit the grandparents who are in their fading years, to show them that there are people in distant lands who remember them fondly and care for them. One does not forget. These young people – from the distant lands – are old enough to have memories of their own, memories of their visits with their grandparents when they were younger still. They are determined to demonstrate their love by their mere presence. Remember that there are people who care, do not despair. Love is in the air. I am asked – is it too much to come out and explicitly state that we are here because we love you. But it is not in the nature of this family to go there.
Yeah, it is certainly turning into a different kind of trip. And my role this time may only to be a guide and chauffeur. And I would be glad of it.