FADING CLOSENESS...

...balance on its own without his walking stick which he carved himself from the Gamari from the nearby jungle. Now all I hear about them is through phone, mostly after months... why old men and women of the village are the forgotten ones? They remember people who went to the towns and speak of them with proudness to their neighbours during the lazy afternoons outside their bamboo verandas... I am so engrossed in my studies, so are my parents with their works and life, and I see the clear line of FADING CLOSENESS that time is drawing beween the village and town, between my grand-parents and us(my family), between the forgotten and the forgetful, between promises and conditions... Now-a-days, people shed tears when their dog dies and whisks off with few words when a distant relative dies. Because the closeness matters... And today I am realising how far I have gone away from my village and my people of the village. I guess it's time I should go back as the country girl and live my promises of the past...