Nomad at heart
If I am asked to think of one moment that is the epitome of my experience as an army wife, I will say it is the time of packing when all the boxes, trunks, crates are strewn around on the lawn. For all my worldly possessions, crystals and furniture, swings and bar are laid out in front of me as I look forward eagerly to the next place. We army wives are nomads at heart, barely settling down in one place and already anticipating the next. Civilians can’t imagine how we can uproot ourselves so easily.
They can’t understand the fun of exploring places one has not even heard the name of. I had never heard of a place called ‘Halflong” and had to rely on Google earth to find the spot. From Delhi to Halflong was a journey from Earth to Uranus. However there I discovered the beauty of North Cachar Hills, met Dimasas, Meiteis, Khukis and Nagas; saw clouds coming down from the mountains and rolling in through my window; travelled on roads that did not exist; saw thirty different shades of green during monsoon; came across a variety of insects that only an entomologist could identify.
From Halflong to Dhrangadhra was a cultural shock; from green trees to the land of stones (literally); from peacocks to wild asses, from waterfalls to salt pans, from bamboo shoot curry to khandavi and dhokla. The first question that popped through my mind as we drove through a dusty, arid barrenness was, “Do people really live here?” I soon grew to love the peace and solitude of Little Kutch.
So when it is time to pack again I sit and look at my boxes. The older ones still have the remnants of my husband’s progression through years. For me they hold a lifetime of memories, of starting a house together, of my son growing up, of togetherness and oh so many things. For my husband they are an excuse to start cribbing (once again) of how our boxes have multiplied from two (of his bachelor days) to 80 (after marriage). But I don’t care because I carry my world in them.
If I am asked to think of one moment that is the epitome of my experience as an army wife, I will say it is the time of packing when all the boxes, trunks, crates are strewn around on the lawn. For all my worldly possessions, crystals and furniture, swings and bar are laid out in front of me as I look forward eagerly to the next place. We army wives are nomads at heart, barely settling down in one place and already anticipating the next. Civilians can’t imagine how we can uproot ourselves so easily.
They can’t understand the fun of exploring places one has not even heard the name of. I had never heard of a place called ‘Halflong” and had to rely on Google earth to find the spot. From Delhi to Halflong was a journey from Earth to Uranus. However there I discovered the beauty of North Cachar Hills, met Dimasas, Meiteis, Khukis and Nagas; saw clouds coming down from the mountains and rolling in through my window; travelled on roads that did not exist; saw thirty different shades of green during monsoon; came across a variety of insects that only an entomologist could identify.
No comments:
Post a Comment