It was 12th of September 2008. A day I can never forget. I was born a Keralite but had always lived in North India since birth. My upbringing was in various parts of North India and it is not uncommon for people from a state migrating to a different state in search of jobs, to forget their hometown and the culture that their basic caste followed and practiced. It was not different with me either, and I knew my culture only to the extent it was practiced in my house. Though my parents ensured that they inculcate all of these into me, we often found that we had to compromise on lot of things because something that was practiced in our culture was done differently in the culture that I was living in. But no regrets, because I feel that is where diversity comes in and diversity is what we Indians are know for.

One such thing was celebrating Onam. We used to celebrate this biggeest festival of the Keralites in North India as well but I got to understand the difference only when I came down south to Kerala on 11th of Sept 2008 to celebrate Onam for the first time in my life spanning 32 years. So there I realized the fact that this is also necessary in order to maintain the purity of the term, “”Diversity”” because if I did not know what the original was, I would never be able to savor the taste of the cocktail.

Each and every moment spent in the 2 days that we celebrated the festival, was carved into my heart and though my cousin brothers living in Kerala were of the opinion that the celebrations had died down as years have passed and that these days people do not have time to celebrate these festivals, I found the existing way of celebrating Onam much joyous that the way we had always celebrated. Having said that I did not fail to think as to what would have been the situation about 10 years ago. Suddenly I felt the pain of loss. A loss of something that I had always owned but never realized the value of. But then probably life is always about lost dreams or, so I think.

As I spent my summer vacation this time in my native home, I was digging through the many wealth in the store room of the house to find things that were of my interest. I suddenly stumbled upon a huge box of the size of about 2 feet. As I cleaned the dust of it, I discovered that it was a radio. I couldn’t have left it there because the memories attached with that radio was much more that with anything else that I could find.

I was nostalgic for a few minutes as I embraced my newly found treasure. I went back about 25 years back in time and found that radio sitting pretty on a dedicated table of its entertaining a group of people sitting around it.

The radio has come a long way since then. About a couple of years back, it had almost died. The new age entertainers like the ipod, the DTH and the mp3 players had almost killed the poor radio. When we all thought that the radio is down and out it bounced back with its FM channels and the satellite radios. It feel good today when you see the car-owner idling just next to you at the traffic intersection listening to the news on his local radio stations.

Radio has now taken a new shape. With quite a few upgrades like the HDradio, available the level of entertainment has also changed.

A few days back I was surprised when I got to know that Polk iSonic ES2 could hook up my ipod to it, with its dock connectors. What’s more, my excitement went off the roof when I found that the iPod Tagging feature in this could help me tag a favorite song of mine so that I could but it later. There were so many instances in the past when I wanted to save that favorite song of mine being played in the radio and I would be running around to get a pen and a paper to jot it down, only to be searching for it after a few weeks. Radio knew it had to compete with the ipods and mp3 players. So it went into the hiding for a few days and came back all dressed up to kill its competition.

My ancestral home was a pleasure to visit. The memories of the days I spent in that few days that we would visit our native is worth cherishing for a lifetime. Everything about the house was special. The sprawling bungalow as it was, in itself was a puzzle not solved. The garden around the house, the water-fountain where we would spend most of our evenings and the mango trees on which we were the ones most seen than those squirrels, are all engraved in my memories.

The very thought of visiting my ancestral house was exciting. My grandfather had some wonderful collections of antique furniture and pottery. Earlier when I was a child I had never thought of even knowing what these collections meant, probably because there were other important things in life for me then. So this time round I was very keen to spend some time studying these collections.

What was awaiting me was something else. The furniture and pottery were in a near death stage. Termites had destroyed the furniture to an extent of no repair. The pottery too, was near destruction stage because of moisture. It was because of lack of attention that these collections deserved. It was a sad sight and I felt, only if we had opted for a service like that of Terminix, I would have been able to save these collections.

You comes across yourself at times in the form of a different person. You see yourself in him. Your struggles, your victories and a lot more.You relate to him. I too, took a nostalgic travel into my past when I met myself. My nostalgia.

‘The pressure was immense and was evident on everybody who was given the responsibility. We had to hire more than 400 people in less than 3 months because of a huge expansion that we had to initiate. I, though was very less into HR activities was called as it was a moment where participation was required. Our ads were on leading newspapers and we have various venues scheduled to conduct interviews. I was handed over a venue to which I was supposed to go from the next day onwards. Though it was a relief from the normal shifts, I would rather have preferred my role in the office.

The next day I got up early in the morning, which I was not used to at least for about 5 years now, got ready and set out for the interview venue. I reached the venue before time so that I could prepare for the interviews which would normally span more than 1 round.

Candidates started trickling in and my activities started. A few were selected and yet others rejected. The rejected ones had a dejected and demotivated looks in their eyes as if asking me, “Why on earth did you reject me? You could have selected me, if not others”.

As I gathered myself and prepared for the next candidate, I saw the next one walking in. He asked, “May I come in Sir?” I nodded and he walked in. I asked him to take a seat and asked for his CV. As he handed it over to me I noticed a sense of dejection in his eyes. He was already demotivated. I ran through his CV to find that he was 26 years old and came from a small town in Madhya Pradesh in India. He was well educated, had a post-graduate degree and lots more.

I asked him to run me through his profile and as he did that I heard him say that he has been in New Delhi since 5 months. I was quick to ask the reason for him coming to Delhi. He replied, “I could not find a job in my town, Sir and I have to support my father who is the only earning member”.

He was selected and as I informed it to him, his eyes brightened and he said, “Sir, if you don”t mind, shall I say something”. I nodded and he continued, “I have been in Delhi since the past 5 months, Sir and I had been to 9 such interviews and they rejected me in the final rounds, some after I had cleared 6-7 rounds. I do not know why. My survival in Delhi was becoming a problem, Sir and you gave me this opportunity. I would be with this company and show you my worth, Sir, I promise”.

He took the offer letter and left as I took a walk down my memory lane. About 5 and a half years back, I reached Delhi in almost the same circumstances, the same age and the same reason, with nothing in my pocket except for a few dreams.

Things have changed with years. What used to be culture few years back, is now hypocrisy. The oneness in families mostly seen during festivals is now nowhere to be seen. A nostalgic travel into the past in one such festival.My nostalgia…..

As the lamps or, Diyas that we call it began glimmering all around, my mind and thoughts leapt across to my childhood. I could see myself standing there in my balcony and looking across to other children lighting crackers.Lamps glowed all around and were spreading light even in the darkest of corners.But I had to wait for Papa to come so that i could join the ones out there lighting crackers.There were lots of people out there in the open, all dressed up and all of them with their families – children, father, mother, grandfathers and grandmothers.Crackers were tolerable – less of sound but more of beauty. People spent time in pujas, before they would come out to enjoy. Lots of open spaces meant that the one not interested could stay at home and prefer not to be disturbed. Naturality was the flavor – everything natural, be it the diyas, the crackers, the enjoyment etc.

The next moment there I was standing in my balcony about 10 years later. What was around was a changed Diwali. Lamps and Diyas had given way to candles because that was an easier way to do it. In yet other houses, there were these chinese lights (Indian ones are out of fashion these days).Many preferred not to light anything. No child was at his balcony waiting for his father to help him light crackers. Crackers were a means of pollution for the government as if all other pollutants were out. But there are right in some way because POLLUTION is evident when you breathe in the evening of Diwali. Children preferred lighting crackers alone because they felt that was a way of showing that they were brave. A few were busy on their mobile phones sending SMS or, speaking to their Boyfriends or, Girlfriends. Families were nowhere to be seen because grandsons preferred being alone, sons/daughters were busy with their social commitments and grandfathers / grandmothers…….What could they do but stay at home?

I would not want to see myself standing in my balcony in 10 years from now. Diwali, I am not sure would be there or, not.