Connecting with Roots – Back to My Village After 26 Years
A journey from Vadodara to my childhood village in Uttar Pradesh, after almost 26 years
There are journeys where we travel to see a new place.
And then there are journeys where we travel back to see a part of ourselves.
This was one such journey.
While my recent travels have taken me to historical places and tourist destinations, this journey was completely different. I was not travelling to explore a new place. I was travelling back to a place I had known as a child. Travelling from Vadodara back to my village near Rae Bareli was not a vacation. It was an emotional return to my roots, made urgent by my grandfather's critical health and, at the same time, by the desire to see the place where I had spent my childhood.
After almost 26 years, I returned to the village where I had spent part of my childhood —near Bela Gusisi, Rae Bareli, Uttar Pradesh.
The last time I had visited the village, I was in 9th standard.
A lot had happened since then.
I had grown up, moved away, spent years in cities, built my career and eventually settled in Vadodara.
The village, meanwhile, had continued to live its own life.
I had carried a few blurry memories of it for all these years.
This journey was my chance to go back and see whether those memories were still there.
The Journey Begins
The visit was planned rather suddenly because of an urgent family situation.
Instead of a conventional family holiday, this was a journey with a very different purpose.
The quickest practical option was to fly from Vadodara to Lucknow and then take a cab to the village, looking at the required assistance and comfort for my father.
The journey began from Vadodara Airport.
Vadodara → Delhi
Air India AI 2882
Departure: 8:50 PM
Arrival: 10:45 PM
After completing security at Vadodara Airport, I waited at Gate 6 for the Delhi flight.
There was something unusual about this journey right from the beginning.
There was no excitement of a holiday destination.
There was anticipation.
I was going back to a place I had not seen for almost 26 years.
An Overnight Layover at Delhi T3
The flight reached Delhi T3 around 10:45 PM.
The connecting flight to Lucknow was early the next morning.
Delhi → Lucknow
Air India AI 2499
Departure: 5:55 AM
That gave us more than seven hours at Delhi Airport.
I had explored the possibility of staying at the transit hotel, but rooms were not available at the time.
An outside hotel or dormitory was another option, but with my father travelling with me, I did not want to unnecessarily leave the airport late at night and return again before dawn.
Fortunately, we found some empty reclining airport chairs.
So that became our overnight resting place.
Not exactly a hotel bed, but good enough for a few hours of sleep. Sometimes, when the purpose of a journey is important enough, comfort naturally becomes secondary.
Lucknow – The Final Road Journey
The flight landed at Lucknow Airport in the morning.
From Lucknow, I had already arranged a one-way cab directly to village.
The fare was ₹1,799.
As the cab moved away from Lucknow and towards the countryside, the anticipation grew stronger.
I had travelled this route physically for the first time in many years.
But mentally, I had probably travelled it many times.
Every few kilometres, the present landscape seemed to trigger something from the past.
And then finally...
The village appeared.
Back to the Village
After almost 26 years, I was back.
The first feeling was strange.
The village was familiar.
And unfamiliar at the same time.
Some things had changed completely.
Some things had changed only slightly.
And some things were still standing exactly where memory had left them.
The old courtyard was there.
The old well was there.
The neem tree was there.
The charpai was there.
But the village around them had moved forward.
And so had I.
वही आँगन, वही कुआँ...
The old well immediately brought back memories.
I remembered the old घिरनी, the rope and the bucket.
But they were no longer there.
The well remained, but the old way of drawing water had disappeared.
The same was true for the handpump.
As children, we would lift the handle with one hand and bring the water to our mouth with the other.
Now even the handpump has a motor fitted inside it.
A small change.
But for someone returning after 26 years, it says a lot about how much time has passed.
The Neem Tree and the Charpai
The neem tree was still there.
The shade was still there.
And the charpai was still there.
I called some of the village children and spent some time around the same old surroundings.
But something was missing.
The people.
The old gathering around the charpai.
The conversations.
The childhood noise.
The familiar faces.
The village was still there.
But the village of my childhood was no longer there in the same form.
From One Generation to Another
Perhaps the most emotional moment was seeing the next generation.
There were people I remembered as children.
Today, they have children of their own.
The children I once knew are now parents.
And their children are growing up in the same surroundings where we once did.
It made the passage of time suddenly very real.
I remembered holding and playing with little children decades ago.
Now I was looking at those same people holding their own children.
Time had quietly completed a circle.
The Village Has Changed
The old village had its own rhythm.
There were bullocks and the sound of their bells.
There were bicycles.
There were wells, handpumps, mud paths and agricultural trails.
There were mango orchards and canals.
Children walked and played everywhere.
Today, many of those things have changed.
There are motorcycles instead of bicycles.
There are electric poles where electricity was once absent.
The lanes have become narrower.
Many of the old kheton ki pagdandiyan have disappeared.
The handpump has a motor.
The old methods have gradually given way to newer ones.
The village has changed.
And perhaps that is the natural way of life.
We cannot expect a village to remain frozen in the memories of a child.
The Electricity Connection
There was another change that felt particularly personal to me.
The village of my childhood was a place where electricity was not a part of everyday life.
Today, electricity is at the centre of my professional life.
The boy who once grew up in a village without electricity eventually became someone who works in the world of electricity.
Standing there and looking at the electric poles, the old house and the childhood surroundings, this contrast stayed with me.
It became the central thought of the poem I wrote during this visit.
✍️ लेकर के एक धुंधली सी याद...
Connecting with Roots
आज बड़े सालों के बाद वो आया है...
A Childhood Revisited
Perhaps that is what this journey really became.
I did not simply return to a village.
I returned to the village as the child I once was.
For a few moments, the years between the two visits seemed to disappear.
The old well reminded me of the way we used to collect water.
The neem tree reminded me of afternoons spent under its shade.
The charpai reminded me of people and conversations that are no longer there.
The disappearing paths reminded me that even landscapes have memories.
The children reminded me that another generation has already taken our place.
And the electric poles reminded me of the strange journey my own life has taken.
Saying Goodbye to the Village
Leaving the village is always the hardest part. After spending time with my grandfather and happily seeing his improved situation, it was time to leave the village and travel towards Rae Bareli Junction for the return journey. Boarding Train 09184 at Rae Bareli Junction with my father, the long journey back to Vadodara served as a necessary bridge between two worlds.
After spending time with family and relatives, it was time to leave again.
It is always difficult to leave a place after rediscovering it.
Especially when you know that you may not return for another long stretch of time.
But this time, leaving felt different.
I was not leaving with the feeling that the village was simply a place from my past.
I was leaving with a renewed connection to it.
Maybe the village had changed.
Maybe I had changed even more.
But the connection was still there.
🚆 Return Journey – Rae Bareli to Vadodara
For the return journey, I travelled to Rae Bareli Junction.
From there, I had booked:
09184 – Banaras–Mumbai Central Special
Boarding: Rae Bareli Junction
Destination: Vadodara Junction
The train journey was long, taking us across several parts of northern and western India.
After leaving Rae Bareli, the train continued towards the long journey back to Gujarat.
There is something different about travelling by train after a journey like this.
The landscape keeps changing outside the window.
But inside, the memories of the place you have just left remain constant.
I was carrying the usual luggage.
But I was also carrying something else.
A collection of old memories that had suddenly become fresh again.
Back to Vadodara
The train eventually reached Vadodara late on 3 October.
And just like that, the journey had come full circle.
Vadodara → Delhi → Lucknow → Saunai Ka Purwa → Rae Bareli → Vadodara
A journey that began with an urgent family visit had become something much more personal.
What This Journey Meant
Most travel stories end with a list of places visited.
This one doesn't.
Because the most important destination on this journey wasn't a monument, a waterfall, a hotel or a tourist attraction.
It was my own past.
I went back to see the place where the childhood version of me had lived.
I found the old well.
I found the neem tree.
I found the charpai.
I found the courtyard.
I found the handpump.
I found the lanes.
But I also found something that wasn't visible in any photograph.
I found the connection between who I was and who I have become.
The village gave me memories.
The city gave me a career.
And somewhere between the two is the story of my life.
🌱 Connecting with Roots
Some journeys take us hundreds or thousands of kilometres away from home.
Some journeys take us only a few kilometres into our own memories.
This journey did both.
I travelled from Vadodara to Uttar Pradesh.
But somewhere along the way, I travelled much further back — to the days when I was a schoolboy in a village, running through its lanes, playing until evening, drinking water from the handpump and dreaming without knowing what life would eventually become.
I left that village as a boy.
I returned after 26 years as a man.
The village had changed.
I had changed.
But the roots were still there.
I came looking for a village.
I found my childhood.
Connecting with Roots…
Thank you for reading.
---Samarpan