I’m an Indian living in Canada.  If you have a sec; let me take you on a ride through the so called 3rd world that is India.  I will take you home to my village, to my house.  You can sit in my grandpa’s chair; he brought from Iran on a back of a donkey in 1920s.  You can eat yogurt from the 100 year old clay pot, which my great grandma made herself.  It will be the sweetest yogurt you will ever have.  After this we can go down to the “Bharra Tharra” (the village square) to play some cards, spread some gossips or just lay in the shade of the old and wise Banyan tree. Elders say the tree is as old as time itself; this coming from people who have never owned a watch.  They still tell time by the shadow of the sun.

If an afternoon nap isn’t your cup of tee then, major uncle can always use some help with the plow.  Major Uncle, now there’s a character you don’t want to mess with.  He’s not really my uncle but almost everyone in the village calls him uncle maybe it’s out of respect or maybe they are scared to insult him.  It’s widely known in the village that Major Uncle killed 125 Pakistanis during the last war.  I heard it from choti chachi who heard it from Johnny’s mom who heard it from someone in Bharra Tharra.  Major Uncle doesn’t say much.  I do occasionally see him at the Bharra Tharra sitting by himself.  He’s usually reading the latest reports by The Punjab University about the new advances in farming.  Have you ever had a feel that this man might have some amazing and adventurous stories to tell?

Major Uncle is just one of the many characters we’ll meet in my Village, and I’m sure you want to know about the time the great Banyan tree came a live. 

                                                                                    To be continued…