We sought them here in Navsari round and round Mota Taraw ( Big Lake) and down back alleys; we sought them in Bardoli, 25 kilometres away, even at pain of being chained at the railings of Sardarji Patel's (the great freedom fighter- but more about him later) Museum.
Nor were they in the verdant swaying sugar cane fields of my home village Umrakh with cattle wagons full of cut canes on their way to the sugar factory - to no avail.
Meanwhile we visited my phoie ( father's sister,) in Babin. Geoff did his respectful asking for an elder's blessing by touching her feet, and became a hero with her all over again, and also with my cousin's wife who was visiting from America with her grandson!
We met up with my cousin and family from America (another NRI) in Umrakh at their house which is directly opposite ours. I came in 2010 with my younger brother Jagdish (Jack ), bhabhi (sister-in-law ) Manju and my niece Lisa to their son's absolutely incredible 6 day wedding celebrations with about 2000 other guests from all over the globe. We met people we hadn't seen since we were knee high, and had to pretend to remember sometimes, when they reminded us of how they used to play with us !
As you can imagine, the house was once the grandest, biggest house in its time, where my grandfather and great uncles lived with their extended families before the great uncles went to live in South Africa.
It has been locked up and empty since my Mum died in 1997, and will need a lot of TLC, but we are loath to part with it: it evokes for me and my brothers such strong feelings of nostalgia and belonging. That is the legacy of people who migrate: to belong to two worlds, not belonging to what they left, but unable to let go.
This photograph is of the cattle sheds opposite our house, which are used by those D...... d NRIs to park their hire cars.
We children had such happy times playing in the gardens at the back, making dens and climbing the huge tree that grew in the middle of the garden: giving shade and sharing its produce of loofas that grew on every branch, dangling like caterpillar cocoons. That tree has withered and died, and the weeds and probably snakes have claimed the land, but it is time to sort things out - this not just a holiday for us. Where are those Kingfishers? My cousin understood our Kingfisher quest perfectly, and gave us directions where they can be found in abundance, and so we set off in our trusty Maruti van. We thundered past trucks and lorries, braving the manic traffic of Surat, the biggest and most industrial city around here. After many false sightings: of being wrongly directed by nonchalant young men who would die rather than admit to not knowing something and traffic police who brandished their batons at us threateningly at being interrupted in their megalomanic duty, we turned up a wide avenue with trees lining each side. It looks very hopeful we told each other, look at the bougainvilla and beautiful rose bushes: we are bound to find them here. This tale has a happy ending folks, in that we did find our Kingfishers, all 20 of them, which is the allowance for one liquor license that any foreigner (or that awful species NRI) is allowed in the dry state of Gujarat.
And those Kingfisher beers? Absolutely delicious, even luke -warm,because as luck would have it, the fridge has stopped working! Do let us know how you are doing folks, as we love being in touch with both our worlds! Savi and Geoff - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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