Golakhpur, a small village in the outskirt of Mumbai has a population density of 10 man per sq. ft. Everybody knows each other and everyone knows me as I am the one among few engineers produced by my village. And, I am now an NRI. That made me an icon in my village. Every parent now gives my example to their children to become like me. I am almost a great man back there in my village.
Golkahpur is not typically the one village that children draw in their drawing classes when asked to draw a picture of village. Golakahpur has no more those people with dhoti and bare body, small huts, bullock carts, farming lands, children playing gilli-danda and all. The village had all these when I was a child. But now all the roads are converted from soiled ones to cemented ones, thanks to Prime minister Village Road Construction Plan. People are no more wearing the traditional dhoti-kurta rather preferring jeans and T-shirts. Most of the farming lands have no farming but have big banners of foreigner investors. The people who sold their land to the builders and industrialists have converted their huts to three storied buildings with less or zero architectural beauty. Most of the bullock carts are vanished and each family has now a Hero-Honda bike at least. I remember when I started going school; it was only two scooters and one ambassador car in the village. One of the scooter belonged to my dad and the other one was owned by Shiva's family. Dad was a bank manager and in free time he also taught at the school. He was very famous among villagers for his helping nature and free financial advices. When I used to walk with my father in village, I have hardly seen anyone passes us without talking or thanking dad for one or other reasons. We used to have a building at that time in the village. Among other two buildings, one was Shiva's and the other one was anonymous. The anonymous building was a huge one with an ambassador parked outside. No one lived there as long as I stayed in the village. I saw nobody in that huge palace. I remember dad said once that the owner of the palace was a very talented man and builds buildings in Bombay. He lives and works there. The huge palace is his farm house. Shiva's house was also a building like us. Shiva's father was a social worker and a good man. He and dad are good friends and so as we. He and dad always take different initiative for the betterment of the village and they also rope the palace owner for financing. I also heard that the man in the palace is a very good man and always ready for help. I have also heard that he has a beautiful daughter and she studies at a convent school in Bombay. But i never saw the man or his beautiful daughter. From last 10 years I am out of my village but mom says each and every happening of my village to me. Through this only, I have been in touch with my village being so far away.
Shiva and I born in the same year in the spring of 1983. Shiva is actually older to me by 3 days 33 seconds precisely. We started almost everything at the same time. Mom says, we started talking on the same day, learn walking on the same day, started school together. As far as my brain memorizes, I have Shiva with me always. We studied together, played together in the village pond, eve teasing the village girls together, almost everything together. After we completed 10 yrs of schooling in the village we came to Bombay and never looked back. We completed our intermediate and then joined B tech. And, out jolly good days started.
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