Prerana Panja

On a cold November afternoon, as I strolled through the gulmohar trees to my house. Ma and Baba were deep in conversation. Next morning a nice uncle came over with lots of boxes and nails and soon I was on a train with my family. I distinctly remember asking Baba, “how much longer will it take?” I had never been on a train ride this long. Two days and a night later, I stepped foot on a city that would play a big role in shaping me into who I am today. But, not quite in the way you think.

As a very impressionable 7 year old girl who landed up in a city that was not just geographically opposite to my hometown back in Bengal but also culturally very different. For one, I had moved from a small town to a relatively bustling city and life here seemed to move faster. Slowly I began changing as well, I would avoid speaking in Bengali even at home and thought myself to be cooler for that. I saw my old ways and lifestyle as being beneath me. Although the opportunities around me were in abundance, my parents were well connected with the culture and they would attend many Bengali functions and concerts by renowned artists, I never paid heed. Every Saturday all families would meet at the Kali Mandir and us kids always conversed in Hindi. The memory of Das uncle twisting our ear to remind us to speak in Bengali is etched deep in my mind and soul. Although not the best method, his intentions were pure. "You'd forget your own mother tongue if you don't speak it" he'd say. And he was right. By the time I was in college, I realised how little I knew about my own culture and the stories my parents and grandparents would narrate to me. I realised that the day I have my own children, I wouldn't be able to recite the same rhymes and tell them the same stories that I listened to, because I was so out of touch and in denial. Choudhary uncle used to pity us saying that we missed out on such great literature because we never bothered to learn to read Bengali fluently. I realise this now.

In my undergraduate degree, I slowly started to re-explore my culture little by little. But it was this pandemic that brought about a paradigm shift. I went to visit my hometown and got stuck there for a good four months. It was a great opportunity to absorb my culture from the people itself. I started speaking Bengali so fluently that my own mother didn't quite recognise me. I would hum classical bengali songs, be curious about the history of my culture and the moment when I knew that I was more Bengali than I was before was when I started subconsciously inculcating Bengali words and references into conversations with non bengalis too. That is how I reconnected with my home. But ironically, as I write this today, I am moving back to said home from Gujarat. And suddenly, once again there is a sense of uncertainty and a loss of a sense of home. Perhaps home is something I'll always keep rediscovering or perhaps it is something that has always been within me.

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