Barfi

A glimpse of home...is all I need. Barfi, well, thanks...

I was all of sixteen when I left home. The last I remember well is a snowy morning. It had snowed all night and I woke up to a white wonderland. The short excursion outdoors was halted by a large tree that had fallen on the main road. While I could not venture too far in the snow, the visually delightful panorama of the hill town, my home, the Darjeeling of that day, got frozen in my memory.

Then came North Bengal, not too far from home, with the hills always in the background. Yet, a different scenic delight! Rice fields, meandering rivers, cycle rickshaws, green swaying fields of harvest and the music of the village plays "the jatras" that resounded well into the night.

Next stop, Kolkata: its many little lanes and by lanes, crisscrossing ancient mansions. The city, shrouded in an air of past grandeur and glory, yet weighed down by its innumerable, countless citizens....many falling out of these opulent ancient homes to the streets below. Where they lived, cooked, bathed, sold their wares, begged and died.

Regardless of the story line, the movie Barfi, took me back to these places I had never left behind.