One
of the favourite songs of my youth was ‘Take me home country roads’
by John Denver. I was a denizen of Shillong in those days. Shillong had uncanny knack for making people feel out of place. The place made me feel like
a second-class citizen all through the 15 years of my subsistence there. [One
of the chapters of my memoirs, Autumn
Shadows, has that title: ‘Second-class citizen’.] It’s only natural
that I yearned for a better place, one that made me feel at home.
Why
didn’t I leave the place sooner than I did? That is one of the mysteries of
life. Destiny. Probably, I was scared of venturing out to a new place.
Probably, I lacked the confidence that I would find a good job elsewhere. When
I left Shillong finally, it was more out of a compulsion than my choice. I was
ejected, so to say.
I
spent the next decade and a half in Delhi, the place which I didn’t want to
leave until my retirement. I liked Delhi for various reasons. It left you
alone, for one. Delhi was the least bothered about your religious inclinations
or disinclinations, your political views, your intellectual stands, and so on. Everyone
was busy doing their own things. I was lost in that vast multitude of people. I
savoured the anonymity.
The
autumn of my life took me to my village. I wanted a relaxed life. I thought my
native place was the place I belonged to. Rather, maybe, I longed to belong
there. Now, five years after my rendezvous with my birthplace, I wonder whether
this was what I wanted.
I
don’t mind making another choice now. Even my age doesn’t deter me. The other
day an old student of mine rang me from Japan and told me that English teachers
were in demand in that country. “Age is just a number, sir,” he said with a
laugh. I laughed too. Age hasn’t started bothering me yet. “You need to pass a
simple test in Japanese language,” he added. “Just elementary knowledge. Most
of the Japanese don’t know English beyond the rudimentary things.” That put me
off. I am not going to work with the mystifying shapes of the Japanese alphabet
now.
A
friend whom I met quite by chance the other day told me about teaching jobs in
Thailand. I toyed with that too. I think somewhere in a dark corner of my
heart, Thailand awakens occasionally like Denver’s country roads.
Your
place chooses you, I think, rather than the other way around. Delhi chose me as
no other place has done so far. Now with all that’s happening in the country, my
heart longs for an escape. Longs for “the place I belong.” Somewhere “dark and
dusty” with a “misty taste of moonshine” and perhaps a “teardrop in my eye.”
I
have quite a few friends, relatives and old students who live abroad. From
Australia to Canada, from Nigeria to Saudi Arabia, a lot of countries have been
chosen by these people to settle down. They have given me the impression that
they are happy there. Most of them have told me in no uncertain terms that they
are happier there than here. Patriotism is a different sentiment altogether.
I
find myself longing for a change. That’s why I suggested the topic for this
week’s Indispire:
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