The Village I Know, The Stranger I’ve Become | by Kris Kal

On a quiet Tuesday night in my father’s shop, I rediscovered the beauty, the change, and the golden hearts of my hometown

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It’s a Tuesday night. I’m sitting in my father’s shop, laptop open, typing away….

Outside, the temple bells have gone quiet, the streets are almost empty

And here I am: full-time software developer, part-time writer, full-time “delulu” guy, sitting behind the counter, writing about my life

This is very different from all my other articles so far

This is my simple observation of my hometown

The town which is familiar but still alien to me

I won’t disclose my exact location because, you know, I’m a RAW agent… (Just kidding, LOL).

It’s one of the villages in India where it rains heavily in the monsoons

I was not born here, but my dad migrated here in the 80s

I’ve laughed here, played here, scraped my knees here

I know the mindset of the people here, simple but elegant

For the search of a better life, I migrated to the Silicon Valley of India, Bangalore

I love Bangalore, almost all my friends are there. My mornings start with rushing to office in the traffic

Here, waking up to the quietness of the village and the ringing of bells in the temple and chanting of Vedic hymns

But now I am back in my hometown, it’s been so long since I left here, I feel alienated, but the childhood memories are still there

Coming back after so long feels strange

The streets are the same, but the faces have changed

Some people still remember me, others look right past me

One major difference stands out, the village is now filled with old people with golden hearts

The youth have moved to bigger cities, chasing opportunities just like I did

But the community is still alive and vibrant

Unlike cities where houses are like cubicles in the office

Here everybody knows everybody

Everybody helps everybody in need

That’s the beauty I’ve missed, the comfort I’ve craved without realizing it

In the coming days, I’ll take you deeper into the life, the laughter, and the little miracles of this beautiful place I call Shambala

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Ciao. Adios

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