MUHAMAD Majid Rauf CHISHTI

Date of birth: Sep 1986

Interests:Reading....travelling, cricket etc

young star of chumbi

MEMORIES!

Getting so much absorbed in this really hectic and busy life of the “city” which is called so much advanced and sophisticated, I often think about the “past”. Sitting on the upper deck of “luxury” buses in summer and travelling in the warm train compartments in winter, I peek outside. I recall walking on those old roads and small pathways in freezing cold and scorching heat. I see the people laughing in coffee shops which remind old naive men sitting in one of the small village square and sharing some satirical jokes with each other. Mr. Jim (An aged person who is my job colleague) often wishes for that environment. He really wishes for smoking a traditional pipe instead of all its hazardous facts indeed. It is said that we do not need degrees to appreciate the beauty and simplicity of many thing. It is absolutely free in fact we just need a reflecting heart to elaborate those things. After spending quite a few years in the western and “advanced” world, I still can’t forget the sunset and quietness of mornings in my village. Everything round one is calm, quiet, moss-grown, and orderly. Season follows in the track of season and one year can hardly be distinguished from another. Covered with hills from sides, carpeted with green patterns mixed with trees make us feel like a small heaven on earth. The surrounding country is smooth and green, full of undula­tions, and pleasant country roads strike through it in every direc­tion, bound for distant towns and villages. On these roads the lark in summer is continually heard, nests are plentiful in the hedges and dry ditches. The mornings have always been the memorable when the sun opens its eyes and its rays are reflected by the hills cause a shiny atmosphere all around. Such a scene has never been away from my imaginations as I never had this experience here, and off course I can’t. I always recall the smile on the faces and warmth in the attitude when I see the people with anxiety and aloofness here. I can say that their simplicity is easily overwhelming the vanity of these people. Ringing bells in the village school are still in the memory like a sweet melody with a never –ending taste. Frightened faces (due to school work) and “dirty “uniforms of us is still part of my memory. Such moments and memories are alive. City life dulls man Of course he laughs and weeps, but it is not the same spontaneous laughter and tears of the villager. There is a quality that comes to a man only after long and inspiring contact with the soil. An abundant treasure of memories is coming in my mind with words flowing uncontrolled. I will try to transform those words and memories soon. Memories of my village, a heaven on earth.