My Hometown

Whenever I hear Bruce Springsteen‘s song, “My hometown” I think of my actual hometown - my village of Garhshankar which is in Punjab state which is in northern India next to Pakistan at the foothills of the Himalayas. Of course, if I were to sing that song, I would have to change the lyrics because I wasn’t eight years old running with a dime in my hand. It was more like….I was 4 years old running with a paisa in my hand to buy some delicious sugarcane or probably more accurately I was running away from the horse and cart that took me to school. Yes, in 1973 it was an actual wagon likely pulled by a bull that took the kids to school. And I would cry every time it came around until my grandfather said I didn’t have to go infrurating my grandmother.

I think of Garhshankar as a kind of home because even though I was so young when I left, and my memories are limited, this was the place that my grandparents and my father always talked about. They were so deeply connected to that town, that house, their store and the people. Being that young I didn’t realize how hard it must have been for them to leave and to adjust to life in Winnipeg where you don’t know the neighbours, where you can’t just go across the street to get fresh vegetables, where you don’t speak the language, and where it was so damn cold! I had no idea of their adjustment because I had so much of my own to do. But the plan was never for my grandparents to come to Canada. It only became our plan because my mother died.

And her death was quite the adjustment for everyone especially my father and brother and me but again I was too young to remember much of it.

And just on that topic, although I was so young when I lived there, I have some vivid flashes of memories about being in that house and that street that I would actually call a lane, a very narrow lane. So narrow that you can hear the conversations of the neighbours across the way.

But the connection for me is mostly visceral. I can feel the place, the people and my family but only in flashes. I like to go up to the rooftop because I remember spending a lot of time up there. We slept up there. We cooked and ate up there. I played up there. Got bullied by my brother up there, no doubt. I certainly pulled my cousin Angela’s hair up there because I resented her usurping my role as the only girl in the family. I have no direct memory of this, just a photo that immortalizes my jealousy and her cuteness forever!

the rooftop today looks different surrounded by buildings that were built after we left

So going to Garhshankar is especially precious to me because it wasn’t just a place where I grew up but it was the last place I spent time with my mother. The room we slept in at night is still there although it looks a bit different. The room where she died is also still there.

I found these thoughts overwhelming in 2016 when I went back to the house and I didn’t realize that I was going to have such an overwhelming emotional reaction to those thoughts but I did. This time things were different, I felt more grateful that our home still exists where I can remember my mother so vividly so this time the feelings of being there were all positive and comforting.

It’s amazing how at home I feel in this space, in that town even though it is so foreign in some ways and I likely stick out like a sore thumb because there’s nothing modern about Garhshankar even for all their newfangled innovations, it is still is a very small town of about 27,000 people densely populated, mind you, because it is a really tiny space. But anyway, being there is really meaningful. The house, the shop, and the town.

My cousins live in the house now. They are the children of my father’s sister and they moved into the house probably sometime in the early 80s and have been living there since. They’ve made a lot of changes, positive ones. They’ve turned the general store into a homeopathic medicine shop and have made the attached living quarters so warm and welcoming. My cousins are all I ever heard about when I was growing up. My grandmother was so fond of them because they were 4 daughters and one son and she always worried how in the world they would all get married off. This venture was mostly successful. One cousin decided not to marry which I have to say was very unorthodox and risky for a woman at that time. In a place as small as Garhshankar, an unmarried woman would not have protection from anyone. To live without a husband or a family of your own would be negatively viewed giving her less value especially in such a small community where some attitudes remain old fashioned. But she devoted herself to her parents that house and her siblings and their children. She is especially devoted to her niece that lives in the same house who is very precious to me as well. She was in the middle of her high school exams when I was there, and I helped her study for her climate course, which is all about the varying climate and soils of India, which taught me a lot!

I love spending time with my older unmarried cousin even though we are so different coming from different places, etc. She always treats me and everyone with such respect warmth love and kindness. She reminds me a lot of my grandmother. We had a lot of fun together, not doing anything touristy but just doing family type things like eating, chatting, hanging out in the shop….and all this felt really nice and comforting. Not to say that we didn’t do some shopping for clothes!

Which in India means picking out the fabric that you want, going to see the tailor, getting measured and then having him make the outfit custom for you.

I also wanted to have two Indian suits made for my sisters in Canada, but did not have them take their measurements so we did a lot of awkward estimating my sisters’ sizes by comparing and contrasting with the tailor’s wife who is behind the counter. This felt wrong in so many ways. My mother commented that with this method, his wife probably ends up with a lot of Indian suits being made perfectly for her, but not fitting the actual person they were intended for.

Example of the exquisite raw material that will become a beautiful custom made Indian suit for me!

We also went to visit my eldest cousin and her family in a nearby town. Her husband is a retired banker but also has a very lucrative business growing poplar trees. They have a beautiful house with a garden attached to it that has mango trees, guava trees, lychee trees, a banana tree, and beautiful wild roses that smelled absolutely heavenly. I picked a guava right off their tree and it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life!

I was happy to return to Garhshankar. I love maneuvering my way to safety in that alley where motorcycles abound honking while headed straight for you with no intention on their part of stopping or moving over.

2 motorcycles can barely fit across the alley!

On a completely unrelated note, this trip gave me the opportunity to experience India’s medical system and legal system. It started with a terrible pain in my left side, which is nothing new for me and something I would just typically ignore but my cousins would not have it so they insisted I go have my blood test done and have an ultrasound. Being Canadian of course I thought the usual protocol meant I would need to see a doctor and get referred and then I have to wait the year or so before I can finally get in to have this done, but of course they don’t have Medicare there if you can pay for it you can get it. So I did have a test done and the results were delivered in two hours to our cell phone and an ultrasound within the hour where they give you the images with a report attached.

It was quick but it was also system chaotic and disorganized and not one I would say respected privacy or the strict hygiene usually practiced in hospitals. No gloves or sanitizing extensively between patients but then I thought maybe we sacrifice expediency for the sake of the appearance of cleanliness. India certainly knows how to get things done quickly but my Canadian sensitivities and sensibilities made me a little apprehensive with the whole process. I could not figure out what was going on because things looked so random and again I couldn’t understand why 4000 people appeared to work there but things were still so chaotic and disorganized. At least to an outsider.

As it turned out, there was nothing bad to report. Everything checked out great and after some Indian remedies I felt better.

Another really important reason for my visit was to transfer the title of this property from my family’s name to my cousins’ names. This was not an easy task because of a lack of official paperwork such as the deed telling us who is the actual registered owner of the property. If such a deed even exists. So now we have to start a long process of digging to answer that question and then we will know where to go from there.

I decided to stop waiting for something to fall into place or someone to do something and hired a New Delhi lawyer to take care of the whole situation. Hopefully, it will get sorted out soon. I can’t imagine my cousins continuing to live with the stress of instability around ownership of that house that they have lived in for so long.

So this trip really had everything, rest, relaxation, fun, shopping, visits to medical facilities, visits to temples and the oldest church in India and dogs, dogs and more dogs.

Although I always look forward to coming back to Canada, of course I miss my family and my cats, leaving India this time feels sad, and I will miss all my cousins and their dogs in this place that’s starting to feel more and more like home.

Brutus who is a 5 month old beagle puppy who every time he nibbled me with his cute puppy teeth, I had to say, “Et tu, Brute” which never got old for me but you can guess how everyone else felt!