Memory is unpredictable . One never really knows what we will remember and what we will forget. Which is why nostalgia arrives in unpredictable waves, highlighting something and skimming over others. Recently, I have found myself thinking of how memory works, as I was assailed by nostalgia over a trip to Varanasi, a city I prefer to think of, as Kashi. The nostalgia hit right as we landed at Varanasi airport. The last time I was here, it was 1988, I was 13 years old, the airport was brand new… regular flights hadn’t started yet (I think) … flights landed about once a week, and for the rest of the time, everything was open to those of us who lived in the airport quarters nearby. There were fields everywhere, vast expanses of green… I have vague memories of corn and sugarcane… and being overwhelmed by the vastness of the fields (this was the first time I was in such close proximity to them), and the warm hospitality of complete strangers who lived and worked amidst these fields. I h...
Waking up early in the morning in a small house with a tiled roof with no alarms, just birdsong acting as one, sitting down for a healthy breakfast cooked with ingredients from the garden, spending the day walking in a jungle or swimming in a river, looking at birds and butterflies, warming oneself by a bonfire at night and calling an end to the wonderful day with a dinner by candlelight – doesn’t that sound idyllic and hardly possible? Yet that is just what we did this weekend, taking advantage of the holiday on account of Republic Day. We spent three wonderful days at The Hermitage, an hour and a half away from Belgaum. Our hosts, David and Morvarid Fernandez have lived there for 28 years, and for the last seven years, have allowed a few guests like us to spend time at their home, and experience the rustic village life for ourselves. From The Hermitage Jan 09 The Gota - a rural cottage, where we lived We took the night bus from Bombay to Belgaum, where a cab met us to take u...