Monday, March 29, 2010

Prabhat Road






The gallis (lanes) of Prabhat Road.

A grand old bungalow, supposedly the movie 'Virrudh' was shot here.





This time when I went back home (its weird how I still think of it as home, I think I travel between two homes), I managed to go to Jai Narmada Apartments, where I lived between the ages of 2 and 12 and take some photographs of the buildings. As it happens I was just in time, the building is now being demolished to make room for a bigger apartment complex. I look forward to seeing something new in the place of my former home, but I can’t help feeling a little nostalgic when I think of my childhood spent there. Prabhat Road when it wasn’t so busy, when mothers would not allow their children out in the afternoon as it used to be so lonely, so quiet. Who would believe it now, who saw Prabhat Road as of today? It is still green, still verdant, I still feel like I am home under the green canopy that shelters me the minute I enter any of its lanes. The trees hardly let any harsh sunlight in. What is filtered through is diffused greenish light, lots of shade and coolness. I swear the temperature drops at least 2’ as soon as I enter Prabhat Road. I admit my past visits have dismayed me, the rampant commercialization, the crowds, the hordes of people. Not what I remember, not what I am used to, not what I wanted to go back to. But I think I am making my peace with it. I found a wonderful new trail this time and I admit its super convenient to have the bakery, the medicine store, the laundry so close by. Especially convenient after the drive everywhere suburban lifestyle that I lead in the US. Of course my son will never play in Kamla Nehru Park like I used to in the morning, then there was no fighting for the swings or the slides. The old watchman will not come out to make sure we are not getting into mischief. The bhajiwali no longer recognizes me, my friendly neighborhood cobbler is gone. I don’t see the ricksaw wala who dropped me of to school, then Ferguson, then architecture college and then ‘sasari’. I am not sure if I would have been so sensitive to the changes that I see had I not moved away. I guess I am not sure if this the price that we pay for moving away or for growing up.
 
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