By Jagdesh Singh | Opinion |
The chai was piping hot, just off the stove. Local Punjabi tea leaves boiled with fresh milk, milked only the day before. There’s only one way to enjoy chai like that; tiny mini sips, slurped in the crisp spring morning air temperature still in its teens. How hot liquid travelling to the stomach soothes the coldness on our skins, is the simplest of joys.
I’ve been blessed beyond what I deserved, to be able to make trips to Punjab every couple of years or so, ever since being a teenager. Having distant relatives certainly helped quite a bit. The Desis or locals, be it relatives or friends, have always been utterly generous with sharing the joys of Punjab with me and even with my family.
I continue sipping as my better half smiles wistfully while enjoying every morsel of her prontay and fresh curd. Our hosts were sewadars of an ashram deep in Punjab, the best cooks of vegetarian Punjabi delicacies in my books.
Since my first trip alone when I was about 17 years of age, I’ve always regarded Punjab as home. Not so much the home where one grows up in, and of which siblings and family form the lion’s share of our background and our upbringing. But more a spiritual home. Even though everything seems a little alien to me, the culture, the language, the people, it still felt like I was coming home. It felt right.
Visiting Harmandir Sahib in the bustling city of Amritsar will always evoke both the joys and the awe simultaneously in me. Splendour doesn’t even hint at how the Gurudwara in the middle of the man-made lake looks. My emotions would be of happiness while admiring the beauty with both my auditory and visual senses, would be of peacefulness, and just feeling right.
Even visiting my relatives, who tend to get quite overwhelming with generosity, can feel right at home for me. Of course the ashram is where it feels like how a glove fits in snugly. No inhibitions are detected, and we just chill out consciously as the minutes go by. When it gets dull, a trip to the town for some food never fails to give us a story to tell when we’re back home.
In my opinion, homes are never about a particular building or house, nor is it about a place and its inhabitants. Homes can be all of the above, but how you feel intrinsically when you get there will tell you if you’re back home. Home should feel right. It takes years to build a home of our own, as the inhabitants bestowed upon us grow, the home grows as well.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the home that my family has grown in, with abundant memories piled up ever since we’ve lived our lives here. But this spiritual home I call Punjab is a little different. It’s more of a comforting distant feeling of dejavu from a past life. Its sights and sounds feel recognisable even though there’s no evidence that says I should recognise at least some of it. I’m convinced of reincarnation because of this.
Now, let me get back to this hot chai. It feels absolutely right.
Jagdesh Singh, a Kuala Lumpur-based executive with a US multinational company, is a father of three girls who are as opinionated as their mother
* This is the opinion of the writer, organisation or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Asia Samachar.
RELATED STORY:
The plight of the Rohingya (Asia Samachar, 29 April 2020)
ASIA SAMACHAR is an online newspaper for Sikhs / Punjabis in Southeast Asia and beyond. You can leave your comments at our website, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. We will delete comments we deem offensive or potentially libelous. You can reach us via WhatsApp +6017-335-1399 or email: asia.samachar@gmail.com. For obituary announcements, click here
