A PLAY OF FLEEING NOSTALGIA

I am a casualty of military nomadism, changing cities and friends every couple of years within India. This nomadism led me to live in locations that were remote and minimally damaged by human interference. One such city was Siliguri, where I spent two years inside a military base embedded in a serene ecosystem. A twenty-minute walk to the majestic Tista River, surrounded by living creatures and sounds of nature that could defeat Beethoven’s tunes. The quarters we live in were old and had cracks on the outer walls. Within these cracks grew dark green moss blankets, and most sane adults would complain about how rusty the structure looked. I was seven years old, and I had opposing views to these grumpy complainants; I loved the moist, refreshing texture of these walls, and they had a sweet scent that I can never forget. On these walls were these Giant African Land Snails that I adored so much as to keep a collection of them as pets in my backyard; I am not exagerating they were massive.

Tista River, Bengal, India

With the large Tista river came small tributaries that seeped into these dense jungles where I resided. In a small, crystal clear stream that went past my house, I used to sit with my feet in the water and watch these small fish curiously pecking at my foot. Being near the foothills of himalan range, one could see large, perfectly rounded rocks instead of a regular muddy riverbed. I loved these rocks and the random soft plants that grew in them.

A stark contrast to this serenity was the presence of wild elephants in this forest. I do not remember the exact number of these massive giants and couldn’t find any online, but I remember two encounters with them. When our car passed a herd of about 10, leading towards the forest from the road, among them were two baby elephants. The second encounter was being woken up by my dad in the middle of the night to hear our vegetable backyard being rampaged by two elephants and a fence being destroyed by them. I could physically feel the vibrating thumping of the ground when these creatures trotted away. There was a permanent 24/7 elephant management team that was regularly called to shoo them away.

With these agressive beast in sight It was a norm to be back inside our homes before the night hit, as if it were a metaphor for the animal kingdom to start their day. One day, I was a little late getting back from karate practice, and it became dark. I remember this scene of me walking by a strip of jungle, a five-minute walk from my home. I looked to my right, and this scene evoked a shock of wonder and curiosity. At a slight distance, I saw green glowing eyes, not one, not two, but at least a hundred mixed with a jumble of fireflies. They were fixed and staring right into my eyes and soul; these were chital, an indian subcontinent endemic deer. The backdrop was pitch black. I stood there for five minutes and saw some of them blinking and slightly moving; the image stays in my head as a magical reminder of how nature exists in its own world, and we are mere animals with some extra brain tissue.

These encounters are momentous because it has been fifteen years since I last went back to Siliguri. Things would have changed, new construction, new govenments and much more population. I am fearful of going back, as I might not get to see the same things again. Maybe they cleared a part of my favourite jungle. Maybe there are no elephants left in the area. I wish we had an answer to life and creation. I have realized that life is change, and at the end of my journey, these changes will melt just like the neurons in my brain.