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Why I am Missing my Roots?
|by Anisa Chaudhary|
Even when I was in India , I never felt that strange pull that I feel now. I never felt that sudden desire to break all barrier and run to my roots. I never felt that deep desire to run across those muddy pagdandi once again, I never closed my eyes and remembered the sparkling water like aluminum foil on the sunny afternoon, running through the veins of the fields.
I never missed the green weeds swashed under my feet, those blunt leaves cutting through my skins while we chased each other. I believe my soul slept under the enthusiasm of teenage or maybe it was to bewildered by the bright of the city life that
I never realized that here, miles and miles away from my land I will be tied down to roots again. I cannot recollect how many times my present blurs away and I see those muddy thatched house where the smoke from clay stove would swirl out as the sun trailed away.
That star studded with bright stars and hazy nebulas and the crescent of moon peeping in from that palm tree that rose too high from our house. How many times I would taste the food on my tongue which came fresh from the "khet" that day.
I look outside my office window many times and I see those quiet trees staring at me and I feel lonely in my heart. Empty of those careless days, empty of those no-expectation and no-expecting days. When I was a nobody and nobody wanted anything from me. When I would just run around my whole village collecting raw mangoes in my frock .
That's the only childhood I remember, I don't remember my class, my school that much but I remember those days of being one with nature, a part of my village, part of those villagers.
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05/05/2012 19:30 PM
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