I never enjoy listening to any other language as a dialect from western Uttar Pradesh. I call it my Grand-Mother tongue as it was probably the first language i learnt, from my Dadi.

My first best friend in this world was my Dadi and the much loved game was to be her dog, bark at her and fetch things for her. When i used to pay a daily visit to nearby playground with her, absolutely nobody around could frighten me. She was always my savior. Quite often, i used to ponder “How can someone be so powerful?” while at the same time, thanking God for sending her on earth as my Dadi.

As the time passed by, i became involved with my school, friends, college and now office. My playground was left far behind but my Dadi still goes to the same place and for the same job of fetching milk from Dairy, all alone.

I am glad that my job allows me to spend enough time with my family and the mornings are always dedicated to my favorite woman.

This Christmas, i was planning for a short trip to Ajmer and Pushkar which somehow did not happen. Instead, Santa was in mood to give me a special present. I was sleeping until late on Saturday when my Ma shook me “Get ready, we are going to Dadi’s village”. My nose was choked as i was gripped by cold, had a sore throat, but i didn’t think twice to gear up for the trip. My Dada’s and my Dadi’s villages are only a few minutes walk apart. This walk is on a sandy pavement along with a canal connecting the two villages with sugarcane and mustard fields on both the sides.

I along with my Ma, Pa and Dadi was on my way to her native soil and after 95 kms of run from Delhi, we crossed that canal called “Bamba”. I immediately applied the brakes and got down of the car. Pa narrated me an episode from my Dadi’s marriage where she sought to drop a “Letter” in the canal from her village only to be picked up by my Dada from his village. I could not stop laughing but at the same time, was touched. A few more minutes of drive brought us to village “Nangla Hukam Singh” and i steered the car into our lawn meant for buffaloes. We were quite surprised to see just two persons in the house, my Dadi’s brother and his wife. Both of them are aged and their three young sons did not like the idea to live in the village and hence, parted their ways.

A cup of tea was a necessity considering my state and chilly weather and the one i sipped reminded me of all my previous trips to this place during my childhood. The house and its environs were not changed much since my previous trip. A walk to the nearby pond with Ma and a dinner under a dim light of the Lantern revived a lot of memoirs from my early days. As we started discussing the proposed “Taj Expressway” not very far from the village and compulsory acquisition of our fields for construction of apartments, my heart sank within me. While it was not a bad proposal considering the handsome compensation for our relatives living there, it was no less than a nightmare for me.

Will the village look the same after the whole thing? Where will i go to relive my rural dreams? Where will these swans and buffaloes take refuge? With all such questions in my mind, i slept early at 8 pm adapting myself in the environment.

I went for a morning walk along the canal just to seize the sight in my eyes as i was not very sure to witness it again. 

The last thing i wanted to hear was the comment from a tractor owner washing his machine in the canal water “As this place is soon to be urbanized, this canal will be transformed into a dirty drain”. I somehow stopped myself from bursting into tears and turned back to my Dadi.
I wish my Dadi could save her village. I wish i never grew up.