GOLDEN MEMORIES OF THE VILLAGE : Dr. Pravita Tripathi

GOLDEN MEMORIES OF THE VILLAGE 

 

Dr. Pravita Tripathi

 

"When we had earthen pots, we were free from diseases… and today, when we have RO water, diseases are everywhere." My grandmother’s words still echo in my mind, pulling me back to that dear village where every moment was filled with peace and contentment. Whenever I get tired of the noise and hustle of city life, the memories of that village bring me a sense of calm, making me realize how much of that simplicity, connectedness with nature, and warmth we have left behind in our quest for modern living. 

My village, though small, was priceless in its beauty. The moment the first rays of the sun touched the fields in the morning, the greenery would glow like gold. The cool breeze would gently caress your face and fill your heart with freshness. The earthen water pot placed in the courtyard, the taste of its water—something I have never found in any fridge or RO water—felt as though nature itself was quenching our thirst. The sweetness of that water, perhaps, was a result of the love nature poured into it, and it was far more special than anything we have today.

Grandmother’s simple meals were nothing short of a feast. The rotis cooked on the traditional stove, and the fresh vegetables—there was a flavor in them that cannot be found in modern-day packaged food. When grandmother would tell us about the recipe, it was not just about the ingredients; it was about the love and warmth infused in every bite. The vegetables, picked straight from the garden and cooked over a chulha (wood-fired stove), had a taste that seemed to resonate with the earth itself. The food was not just for filling our stomachs, but for nourishing our souls. It was an experience, and I have yet to taste anything that compares to it in the modern world. 

The people of the village were as genuine as they come—selfless and always there for each other, sharing in every joy and sorrow. The bonds between people were unspoken but deeply felt. Here, there was no agenda, no pretense—just pure human connection. If someone needed help, it wasn’t a question of "why" but "how." We were all one big family, supporting each other through thick and thin. This sincerity and simplicity in relationships seem to be slipping away in today’s world, where digital screens replace face-to-face interaction and virtual connections sometimes leave us feeling more isolated than ever.

 As evening descended, the village streets would resonate with the laughter of children. We would play under the trees, getting our clothes muddy, but our faces always glowing with smiles. There were no mobile phones, no distractions—just the joy of simple games and the happiness of being present in the moment. We played kabaddi, gilli-danda, and hide-and-seek, and those carefree days are now just beautiful memories. Today, children are more likely to be glued to their screens than to each other, and this innocence of outdoor play seems like a distant memory.

 In the village, life was pure, unadulterated by the pressures of modern living. There was no obsession with status or possessions. People were content with what they had. Even if someone had just a pair of good slippers, they cherished it as their most valuable possession. There was no rush, no competition—just the simple pleasure of living life. We had time to pause, to look at the sky, to laugh with neighbors, and to enjoy the company of those around us. Now, life is a race, and it feels like we’ve forgotten how to truly live.

 At night, when we would lie on the roof and gaze at the stars, it was like being in a different world altogether. The vast sky, the twinkling stars, and the cool night air would lull us into a sense of calm and wonder. Grandmother would tell us stories, and we would listen intently, enchanted by her words. Her stories weren’t just fanciful tales but often carried life lessons wrapped in layers of wisdom. She had this unique way of turning every simple moment into something profound, and it felt as though the universe itself was speaking through her.

Today, in our busy, modern lives, we may have all the conveniences—the RO water, the big buildings, the glitter—but our hearts long for the peace we once had. Relationships, though closer in distance, now feel far away. We’ve lost the art of connecting, and life has become so fast-paced that we barely have time for ourselves, let alone for others. The very things that once gave us peace seem like distant memories, and the world feels heavier because of it.

Sometimes, I wish I could leave everything behind and return to that village where the sweet water from the earthen pot, the love of grandmother, and the warmth of genuine relationships still await me. There was a simplicity in life back then—an authenticity that no amount of modern technology or progress can replicate. The simplicity of village life was not just in the outwardly mundane things, but in the way we lived, the way we interacted with each other, and the way we connected with nature. Today, we are surrounded by the best of technology and comforts, but the peace that came from a simple, slower life is something we have lost in the race for material success. 

The village might seem small, but its soul was large enough to contain everything we needed—contentment, love, laughter, and a deep sense of belonging. The relationships we built there were real, not based on convenience or expectation but on mutual care and respect. The natural beauty of the village, with its fields, trees, and open skies, was a reminder that life didn’t have to be complicated to be fulfilling.

 In the city, with all its modern conveniences, I often find myself yearning for those simple days. The water from the clay pot, the earthy scent of the fields, the warmth of familial love—all those things seem to be missing now. We’ve traded simplicity for speed, connection for convenience, and the peaceful rhythm of nature for the chaos of constant motion.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to those golden days, when life felt so much more in tune with nature and the rhythms of the earth. I long to sit by that earthen pot, to listen to my grandmother’s stories, and to feel the deep sense of peace that only those moments could bring. Maybe, just maybe, in that simplicity, we find what truly matters.

 Today, whenever the memories of the village come to my mind, they bring with them a sense of nostalgia and longing, but they also offer a reminder of what life was once like—so pure, so genuine, so unhurried. In this fast-paced world, those memories serve as a beacon, reminding me that perhaps the key to true happiness lies in slowing down and appreciating the simple joys that life offers. The village may be far away in distance, but its essence is always alive in my heart, waiting for the day when I can return to its embrace.

 

(Dr. Pravita Tripathi is an accomplished Assistant Professor in the Department of Political Science at Sw. RNS Degree College, affiliated with the University of Lucknow. She has authored 11 national and international books and published 76 research papers in reputed journals. She has been honored with 15 awards across various fields, including a prestigious award presented by the Governor of Himachal Pradesh. Dr. Tripathi is an active member of editorial boards such as IIP, Lyceum Inteligencia, and IPSA, and also contributes as a reviewer. Additionally, her articles and stories are regularly featured in newspapers and magazines.)