On the first morning, the alarm clock was brusquely replaced by the rejuvenating chirping of the birds. The salubrious air shook my lungs out of their stupor, while the lush-green vegetation and sodden foliage soothed my eyes' pain. The old three Es (exhausted, enervated, etiolated) were replaced by the new ones (ecstatic, energetic, ebullient). Providence, which chases me every second, and my village's ambience are the reasons for this inconceivable transformation.
Tired by moving from pillar to post over my elusive dyspepsia disease, finally, after one year, I was advised "change of lifestyle" by an ayurvedic doctor and asked to shift from an urban to a rural milieu for a few months.
It's my endeavour to give a glimpse of how wonderful life can be in a village, especially when urban denizens are tethered to computer screens the whole day. Adorable readers, let me take you to my paradisical paternal home, where fields still takes precedence over Facebook. Here, I spent almost more than three months and followed a completely rustic regime, which I never had, owing to my hectic schooling and then work schedule. The wheel of time turned and my nagging disease gifted me an ethereal odyssey to experience and share.
Me and my paternal uncle faced each other with our "brushing swords". I had a toothbrush in my hands, while my "opponent" was holding a datun. I brush twice as much as him, yet have tooth cavities while he has none.
What to say about my grandfather? He is a "gym-goer" at the age of 75. Don't feel stunned.
Actually, he has got perennial membership of God's gym instead of the urban gym. The weird thing is that he is oblivion of this fact. His warm-up includes 2-km walk to the fields, followed by exercises while pruning the trees.
Mostly uneducated, villagers don't have awareness of what a highly rich diet comprises. Even then, their intake is always balanced in nature, as eatables are doled out to them directly by nature. Dangling tantalisingly, fresh vegetables and succulent fruits provide the requisite amount of nutrients, which spawn an unrivalled brawn. Medicinal herbs and home-made syrups prove conducive for downright disappearance of diseases and saving of money squandered on prohibitive pills.
A big jar of milk was gifted by an exuberant old man who came on a bicycle to convey the news of the successful delivery of his buffalo. Busy in igniting the hearth's fire, grandma congratulated him and gave sugar and fruits in return. In a jiffy, I got the answer to why the hike in prices of milk, petrol and LPG don't carve forlorn furrows on those serene faces.
So what if they don't have uninterrupted internet connectivity? Diligent telltales and raconteurs disseminate information in the village at a lightning speed. If they get noticed, perhaps even national news channels might want to borrow their effective mode of communication.
Fully convalesced, I'm again back in the urban lane. Automobiles careen on the highways, incessant connectivity but high stress level too, more hospitals, more diseases, advanced technology but less satisfaction, no demarcation between dusk and dawn. Everyday, while standing in the jostling crowd, my heart beseeches, "Please, take me back to God's cradle".
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