“The Echoes of My Childhood”
I would like to illustrate a village portrait that always holds in my mind and takes me back. If I had left my village for many years, I could remember all my childhood memories, even a single thing would not be erased from my thoughts.
The village I cherish has a stunning landscape with plenty of agriculture, trees, birds, flowers, and a spiral canal running through the hamlet. The boatmen and their traditional Bhatiali song enhance the picture of nature, making it seem serene and vibrant.
I used to get up listening to the chirping of birds, swimming and jumping into the water, playing in the open field, running through the crop field, and rushing to move after the grasshoppers and butterflies had given me endless delight and happiness.
I have a lot of uncountable memories building up right now. We have greatly enjoyed the village’s seasonal splendour and events. During the summer days, we went on a lengthy vacation. On those days, we youngsters would stroll in the sun all day without feeling tired, playing sports or picking green mangoes from the trees, smearing them with pepper and salt, and then putting them into a rolling banana leaf. The mango juice would gradually drip, and we licked it off. What a delicious and mouthwatering food it was!!
Another fascinating and refreshing thing was the village fair. Many things attracted me to the fair, among them Sweets! A big-size rasgulla called ‘Mohonvog’ struck me as the most alluring. I would also love to buy clay dolls, toys, and pots. Indeed, we didn’t have as much as today’s children, but we were satisfied with what we had.
In the monsoon, our community took on a poetic scene when rain drizzled on the tin roof creating mesmerising sounds, rivers, canals, bills swelled, and water lilies bloomed all over the wetlands. We, bathed in rainfall, picked up water lilies, rode on a boat, caught fish, and soaked in the canal until our eyes turned red.
Autumn gave me another fragrance of the clear blue sky with white clouds, creating different shapes like faces, animals, birds, and many more. In addition, there is the Jasmine (Sheuli) flower, which blooms during the night. I enjoyed picking it off first thing in the morning. It seemed like a bed of white flowers under the Jasmine tree, spreading a great smell around.
The winter mornings were wonderfully graced with dense fog. Nature was shrouded in such thick fog while dew fell like raindrops. As the sun emerged from the mist, it gleamed off the dewdrops that had dropped to the grass, giving the impression of pearls! We had shivered in the morning and enjoyed basking. Another most attractive one was drinking Date juice. What a sweet taste it was! As if honey!! From its jaggery and molasses, delicious cakes, sweets, and dishes were made that were just mouth-watering!
What to say about the beauty of spring! The trees were covered with vibrant blooms, the entire environment seemed to be on fire, and the sound of the Cuckoo brought joy to the surroundings. We kids enjoy mimicking the cuckoo’s sweet sounds.
Some more memories are making me nostalgic. On the moonlit night, the horizon had flooded with moonlight while we siblings sat beside Grandmother in the yard. She used to tell us many fairy tales. Sometimes, she pulled me onto her lap and stroked the line in my hair. At the same time, we used to love to count the stars in the sky. However, the gloomy night had a lovely appeal as well. The cricket insects and fireflies would light up the night with loud chirping or ‘calling song’ and flashing lights. The fireflies would flicker their light over the pitch-black night, embracing the beauty of nature with lit-up trees and bushes that looked as though they were by professionals, a far cry from the contemporary modern urban lighting.
It is a great regret for me that the natural beauty of villages has mostly disappeared. The moonlight beauty has become invisible because of electricity—the Fireflies are almost entirely extinct in rural areas. The narrow soil streets transform into paved roads where vehicles are moving regularly. The canal has dried, and the boatmen are singing no longer. As a result, the tranquillity and beauty of the village have immensely disappeared. Children are not eager to play sports or be mischievous anymore due to their addiction to mobile phones. When I visit my community, I can not find my childhood village, it always remains in my heart. In this context, two lines have come to my mind from William Wordsworth-
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
Written by
Susmita Sikder
