Coming Home…

Visited Pali Village. Very emotional. This is where Bloodline Bandra started and ended.

This is where I was born. This is where all my changes happened, good and bad.

This is where my sister died. I am still trying to find out how and why. Someday, someone will tell me, I hope…

The by lanes here, where I used to play have no names, but my memories have tagged them all. I stood at the place where the murder that is described in Bloodline Bandra happened. I talked to some old women who remembered the way it used to be here. The strolling pigs have gone, the drunks are all dead. New faces flash by, unaware of the vibrant history of this little village. The house that I was born in, stands, ravaged, but it is┬ástill there, barely… empty, alone with its memories.

‘My old home is still standing, though the paint is cracked and dry and there’s that old oak tree that I used to play on’… these are the lines of a song…. which continues….. ‘then I realized that I was only dreaming…’

But I was there yesterday, in Pali Village, the by lanes, which only the villagers know remember me. Yes, The Green Green Grass Of Home.

I need to wake up to a new reality. Pali Village, that I once knew is gone. I am humbled and thankful that the Gods let me write Bloodline Bandra, now people will know, the way it used to be.

But the Concrete cross on the junction still stands. I touched it yesterday. That old cross has some stories to tell, of heaven, hell and life in Pali Village, a long, long time ago. They once tied a man to that cross and beat him till he bled. All he did was ask the wrong question. If you read Bloodline Bandra you will know what I am talking about.

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