Trip to my village:The generation gap

This is about my trip to a land where my parents lived. This is a land where all my uncles and aunties belong to. My parents and some of my uncles moved to the metros for jobs, so me and my most of my cousins were born and brought up in an alien environment. And as we grew older, the alien land, the alien culture became our culture, while that of our parents' became alien culture to us. I guess this is what they call 'generation gap'.

My village happens to be about 12 km from a town called Bijnore (140 km from Delhi) in west U.P (a state in northern India). We usually take a bus from Delhi to Bijnore. From Bijnore, we need to take another bus (a local bus) to a village called Nangal Jat. From Nangal Jat, my village (Mohanpur) is 3 km, which we can walk (if the sun is not too bright) or take a tanga (horse cart). It usually takes a whole day from home to home (a home in Delhi to another home in my village). And this journey is a reflection of what I called generation gap.

My parents over the time tried persistently to reduce this generation gap. They made extra efforts to make sure I visit my ancestral village each year, they made a point that I spoke the same language as my ancestors did, they made a point that I celebrate at least some festivals (if not all), which my ancestors celebrated. But despite all their efforts (and also mine), today I feel like a stranger when I visit my village. I feel it's like a trip to some unknown place, where I need to watch out for strangers, where I still don't quite understand a lot of things they do (or not do). For example I never understood, why the buses in this region never move on time. The system here is, the bus only moves when minimum number of passengers are on board (although this minimum number is not too distant from the maximum capacity of the bus). I never understood, why do we still have a one lane road here. I never understood, where there are no bus stops along the road. The bus would stop for anyone, anywhere who signals it to stop. What is referred to as transport system in Delhi does not exist here. Unlike Delhi, slow moving vehicles are given preference than fast moving vehicles. For example if there is a bullock cart (buggi) on the road, the bus has to wait for it to go off the road, to move ahead. So a journey of 9 km takes easily an hour.Once we get down at Nangal Jat, we are more likely to reach home early if we choose to walk than take a tanga. Again the same logic, the tanga would wait for minimum passengers (or maybe the maximum the horse can handle), and only then will it move.

I never understood all the above things and regarded them a sign of backwardness. I was taught in school, one who doesn't value time lags behind. And so these people are bound to remain backward till they change their attitude, I thought. Hey, wait a min. I thought i said 'these people'. They are my people, or I'm theirs or both. This is where my father grew. My father would have touched feet of many of them. How did the word 'these' came in my mind. I guess it's only a sign of my alienation from my roots.

I told my chachaji (who had come to receive me at Nangal Jat) how bad I felt seeing people not valuing their time, which something I don't understand. Chachaji agreed with me and said "people are not in hurry here". I guess that answered it all. If somebody is not in a hurry, then it really doesn't matter if the bus moves on 'time' or not. In fact, then the whole system changes. It's time for the bus to move, when all are on board (and not when the watch reads some numbers). It's proper for the bus to wait for the buggi to get off the road, because it takes a whole lot of an effort for a man to get the buggi off and then on the road. Where as the bus driver only needs to apply breaks, wait, change gears and then push on the accelerator. This answer of Chachaji simply made things take a 180 degree turn. Of what seemed to be a problem of lack of transport system on part of 'these' people, was nothing more than a problem of patience in me. Lack of patience in me could also be a concern I now realized. And if I simply become more patient, things would be so different for me.

"So why are people here not in a hurry", I asked. Thats a wrong question to ask he said. The correct question would be, why are people in Delhi always in a hurry? whats the rush? He was right. It was a deep seated assumption in me that I'm more 'advanced', and people here are 'backward', and so that made me question just about everything of this place. As a human being, do I want to be in a rush or do I want to go easy?? I guess the answer is pretty obvious.
At this point a thought flashed through my mind. Is it possible, that these people would be equally amazed and confused to see me as I'm to see them. Just like didn't understand their way of live, is it possible even they don't understand my way of life?? After all any sensible man would want to wonder why the other guy is always in a rush. Just like I didn't understand, why do we still have a single lane road here, maybe even they would not understand why is half of Delhi always on the road. Why can't people sit at home? Chachaji said yes. He said just like I was confused seeing them, they were confused too seeing me. for example he said, "looking at your dress, they would wonder how can anyone wear such a tight fit jeans in this heat, when there are better options available". Oh they would not understand this.I thought. This is stylish. Thank god I didn't say that, I only thought. I realized how stupid that response would have been.

Just then, looking at the sky Chachaji said, "lets hurry up its going to rain". Rain? It's hot. Within minutes we could see the rain coming to us. I for the first time saw rain from a distance. It was amazing. We ran towards home and the rain chased us. The rain caught up with us within few meters of run and we were drenched. Rain! I have always loved rain. The feel of rain, the smell of rain.