Nostalgia

Parlakhemundi, the place where I grew up, is a paradise for lazy bums like me; I still remember the summer holidays I spent as a kid, when I had nothing better to do except think about what games to play; I remember the times when we had a hard time deciding whether Hide-and-seek, or Chasing game was a better choice. When we didnt know what having computers in the house was like. I love these warm, drowsy, afternoons, when you feel like doing absolutely nothing, just laze around in the house, or maybe go out into the backyard and climb the gauva trees, and yearn for the juiciest ones which are always out of reach. On days like these everything is unusually silent, and the normal sounds of nature, like the twittering of sparrows, or the occasional bark of a dog, are amplified. Those sounds soothe me like no other, and it is the only place where I feel absolutely at peace with myself.

Even now, years later, whenever I visit my grandparents, deep inside my heart, I feel like I've finally come home. The house itself, rambling and huge, feels welcoming and warm, and I feel an overwhelming sense of security. I guess there is something special about the place where you spent your entire childhood, where all the townspeople live as neighbours. I feel glad that none of those people have changed, and I feel happy about the fact that they still remember me, as the child that I was, and treat me with the same affection whenevr I visit the place. Parlakhemundi is the only town that I know of, that has'nt changed; new buildings might have cropped up, and new people might have made it home; but the real spirit of the place, the old-world feel... they're exactly the same.

I feel thankful, that I have a haven to escape to, when I find mundane life too much to bear; I have a home, which will always wait for me with welcome arms, and people who I love, will always be there to love me in return.