Sense of belongingness is something every human being craves
for. Unless you belong somewhere or to somebody you are never complete.
Normally, the place where you are born and brought up is the place you belong.
The streets where you played as a child, the shops you would visit, the hawkers
on the street, the locale of the school, the lonely tree- all these constitute
the place you belong.
But what happens to a person who has nowhere to go, who has
no place to call his?
I never felt that I belonged to the place I grew up in, Bangalore.
Nor did I find solace in my birth place, also happens to be my father’s native,
a small village in Karnataka. I was like a gypsy, a nomad with no place to call
as mine. But, eventually I came to know how it feels to be belonged to
somewhere. I found Mangalore.
Mangalore is a developing city in coastal Karnataka. It’s
not as advanced as Bangalore, but for education, it’s a better choice. Unlike Goa,
the beaches are not crowded with people you don’t know, with people who do not
belong there. Mangalore can be his, who tries to strike a conversation with it,
who strikes to look into its soul. Yes, amidst those Indian cities which are
losing their old charms due to the new currents of modernization and
development, Mangalore still has its soul.
It doesn’t mean that the city is not developing. It is, but
in a different pace, in a different way. The people here have still not
changed. If you talk to them, they respond you with all humility and modesty. You
will find a friend in them or a long lost relative. One cannot get lost here,
because you will always be found, by someone or the other and most often than
not, by yourself.
Whenever I feel lost I just pack my bag and travel 400 kilometers
to reach my destination- Mangalore. A weekend here refreshes me, rejuvenates me
and prepares me for every challenge that life is going to offer me. Even if I
go in the tourist season, I can escape into some place, which neither the
tourists nor the tourism department has discovered. Even when I fail at this, I
have the special ability to create my own world, my own hidden space though I’m
surrounded with bustling streets and crowds.
Here, the waves of the ocean talk to me, the sand dunes
amaze me with their volatility, and the breeze brings me the smell of the mud
from the nearby village. My mother too studied here and she belongs to the same
district, if not the city. This may also be the reason why I can relate to the
city and call it my own.
So, here I am sitting in front of my PC letting my thoughts
go haywire. But my heart is in the place where I belong.
