This spring took me to places in Ludhiana, Madhya Pradesh and Bihar. Being there was like a déjà vu. I kept thinking why some places seemed familiar. It is often said, ‘we don’t remember things or places; we remember the memory of remembering them.’ What I did in college or early years of my career are not part of everyday memory. So recently going to Punjab Agriculture University brought back memories of visiting the campus for a conference in my college days. Similarly, the early years spent in Shivpuri, MP on poverty alleviation programmes during my social sector experience brought back golden memories of my grassroots journey.
Each of these places this spring has meant a new story unfolding quietly in corners I didn’t expect. As in every experience, I found myself not just asking, observing, but learning… from people, from culture, from the social fabric that binds everything together so effortlessly. I came back grateful for these experiences and the deeper meaning beneath each of them. Realizing how the dots connect backwards, from my first job till now. I wouldn’t have been here if it was all not written, or if it wasn’t God’s will. Life is all curated before we are born, or let’s say it is a finished movie, and we are just experiencing it.
Train journeys are always nostalgic as they take you back to childhood. The motion of tracks, the passing landscapes, chaos in the bogie, clinging to family and friends while exchanging seats with strangers, the silence between thoughts, all felt familiar, like a part of me had travelled this way before. I realized journeys are not always about reaching somewhere new, but about meeting a version of yourself you had left behind or simply going back to the memory of those times and places.
One episode brought tears. A father, instead of eating popcorn as part of his meal, was collecting them for his children. I heard him mention, how a few train trips allow him to save popcorn packets and take home for his kids at the end of each month. I travelled back to a time when I would save my daily allowance to buy toys for kids. Some things pass through generations and cultures, staying unchanged. I have heard similar stories from dad.
And then, somewhere in between these travels, came many quieter moments. At this half-time of life, connecting with your own self is so important. If I don’t sit in silence or meditate every morning or in between travel, the feeling of being incomplete seeps in. Those small pauses where I return to myself, fix something within and allow time to listen to soul consciousness. In the hustle of life, this is a key ingredient.
A few celebrations this season were a realization of where to detach. I am emotional, and it’s very easy to be involved in how cousins grow up. Yet at the same time, I have learnt not to be too sensitive and to take a step back. Because, as children grow, they don’t just grow in age, they grow into themselves. Into their own decisions, their own worlds. And as elders, we are not meant to hold on forever, but to slowly step back. Gently. Almost unnoticed. I did this. It may not be a comfortable place to be, but surely the right one. Not easy. But it is necessary.
The past year and a half have brought so many changes that now, swimming forever in change seems to be a new way of life. There are still days of ambiguity and anxiety, to which I have no answers. And in those moments, I find myself turning inward, trusting constantly in God’s will, having quiet conversations with something larger than me, seeking strength, holding on to hope.
This spring, perhaps, was not just about travel and new experiences. It was about moving through myself, from outside and within.