The familiar village of her childhood is gone. Along with it the people changed, and changed with them the ideas as well. Some for the better, some for the worst. The slow change of the village has been caught into the web of time. The once familiar path is now seems to be leading her to a wrong direction in a cunning and treacherous way.

Few familiar faces, now aged and lifeless, took her into their familiarity, nodded and smiled when saw her from a distance. One of them approached simply out of curiosity and struck a brief conversation. Answers were curt yet polite and a short nervous smile in between. Most of the others gave the look of unfamiliarity and curiosity. Few gave a cold look as if almost hostile. The little children running around and playing made the air echo with their laughter. The sudden appearance of the stranger made them pause their playfulness. They stood still for a moment. Looked straight at her in wonder and amazement with their curious little eyes. A child ran and hid behind his mother clutching the one end of her attire and peeked at her. Another kid followed him, a little girl of around four but not more than five.

What might be the reason of such an unfamiliar atmosphere she thought to herself. She avoided the direct glances of the onlookers. Is there something unfamiliar in the manner or air of her action? Or in her manner of speaking? Or perhaps why is she trying to find some relation in this village now? It has been a long time since that unfortunate event a decade ago.

Feeling lost she was about to turn back but paused and glanced around to find something that might have prevented itself from getting caught into the whirlpool of changes. Noticing something, she took a few cautious steps forward. But in fear of losing her way she stopped again and stood gazing in that direction. Suddenly realizing that she had somehow followed the right direction as if the footsteps even knew where to take her. She moved forward and came to a rundown house. The slow changes of the wheel of time had worn it out except few things. Once filled with lively and mischievous voices now stood in silence. The front porch was filled with the scattered dry leaves. Here and there the invasive plants and mosses were trying to strangle the life out of the house; breaking through the wall and making its way to its heart.

The crackle of dry leaves under her shoes broke the stillness of the house. A stray cat had already made a claim to the house, jumped on its feed and stared with its sharp green eyes at this sudden intruder. A crow started cawing on the nearby tree, then flew away. She looked up to the sky. It was a bright summer day, the sky was blue and a mild breeze was blowing making the tree leaves rustle.

It’s a small world in its own and this part of the world is seldom visited by new faces. And when it does, it happens to be in direct connection to the inhabitants of the village. Though she has her roots in it, the long absence unearthed her roots or at least weakened it to the point that even the slight hostility of the atmosphere may uproot it completely.

Time flies by quickly. People changes, new faces appears, nature of relation in family changes, strangers become family and sometimes family becomes strangers.

Then there is that same old tree still standing with its branches spread around its trunk like an umbrella. Her hope rose, thinking it might have captured every moment of her life till the day it lost the sight of her. Even in the midst of strangers it may remember her childhood liveliness and everyday mischief happened under its sheds. Probably it has her life recorded on its leaves like the film reel. But, alas! Your leaves fall, dries and decays and so does the memories of her childhood from the mind of the people. The village of Childhood is gone forever.