The nativists nightmare: We are all Migrants.
It is summer and it seems the world has ascended to the hills. There are cars whizzing on our village road and people looking to buy land. I am worried that land around us will soon be sold and we will be surrounded by cottages and loud city folk with their fast cars. The idyll that we expect in these sylvan surroundings will be lost! But then who am I to object? I too have recently come to stay here even though I have lived in this place and loved it for 35 years now. In the sixty odd years of my life, circumstances, some over which I had little control, have moved me from place to place. I know I was born in R G Kar Hospital of Kolkata, and my father was then posted at Contai and then at Howrah, so I guess I must have stayed there as an infant, and then we moved to Delhi. After five years there we moved back to Kolkata, and I stayed put there for the next 16 years. As an autonomous adult I have stayed in the outskirts of Varanasi, in Nainital district, Almora town, Lucknow, Seatt