The Pilgrimage

Ro had been on the trip for a few weeks. Back to India, the place where he was born but not raised, for a month with his parents and 2 sisters. It had been a good trip so far. Varanasi is a lot different than New York but a man gets used to anything after about a week. Plus the food was incredible and Ro liked to eat. Good food equaled a good life. Hard to argue with that. Everyday he would get up and he would call his cousin Abi and they would go on their adventures. To be honest there is not much to do in Varanasi for a couple of 29 year old men but you try to make the most of a situation. Usually they just went and drank coffee at the nearest mall. They also ate a lot of paan, a specialty of Varanasi that can best be described as chewing tobacco wrapped in a leaf. Ro was convinced he was immune to tobacco addiction. In the evenings they might go out for dinner. The dollar goes far in India so Ro didn't mind always footing the bill. Plus, as he repeatedly said, the food was excellent. He was happy with this daily routine.

Today was a different day however. Today his parents had planned a trip back to Sikta, his ancestral village. To be honest his parents planned something everyday, visiting an aunt here or an uncle or a mama or cha cha or nana or something of that nature. Ro always got out of it, saying he'd rather hang out with Abi roaming around the city doing whatever it is they do. But one of his uncles had guilted him into this trip so he basically had to go. Everyone has those few people in their lives that they really cant refuse, Prem Uncle was one of those people. Though Ro never really knew why. Maybe it was because he used to be in the Indian army and was now a wildly successful businessman. Or maybe its because Ro's dad really respected him. One can never really know these things. Either way he had to go on this trip, no matter how much he didn't really want to. What's the point in going to a village? To meet people you see once every 3 years but never remember? How do you explain to these people that, for him, Varanasi was the village?

To make matters worse, his cousin Abi wasn't going. Abi got out of it. Lucky bastard. So Ro, his parents, his sisters, and Prem Uncle got in van and drove off to Sikta this fine morning. The car ride was enjoyable. Prem uncle was quite the entertainer and always had a lot say so no one was ever bored around him. Although he wasn't from the same village as Ro's ancestors he wanted to show Ro's dad a school he had opened. The school was a standard pre-k to 8th grade school. The only thing that made it special was that it was in a village in rural India. Meaning that its filled with kids from very poor families. Prem Uncle was very excited to show the Americans how his "village school" was run. Ro didn't think too much of it. He had been to another one of Prem uncle's schools before and it was cool and all but it didn't really leave much of an impression.

After about an hour and a half they arrived at the school. It was a rather large one story building with a large open space in the back for the kids to play during recess. The school was just that, a school. Nothing too remarkable about it. The second he got there, Prem Uncle ordered his staff to assemble the students in the courtyard for a special assembly. Ro thought this was pompous and unnecessary. The kids are learning, why bother them? However, in India, he was used to this. People normally rolled out the red carpet wherever his parents went. To be foreign was seen as some sort of unimaginable virtue. It was blasphemous but funny. His father was a scientist, not the pope.

Eventually all the kids got together in the courtyard and were standing in rows by grade. The military's influence was easy to see. Prem Uncle always ran his schools with principles he learned in the military. He believed it was a crucial tool to instilling disciple. He then ordered them to do their morning assembly. Immediately a student from the 8th grade made his way from the back of the courtyard to the front and up the steps.

"We will now go through a series of three OMs. Everyone close your eyes," said the student as he faced the rest of the school. Everyone closed their eyes.

"Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," said everyone. Ro participated in the saying of Om. He'd been to few yoga classes, it is good for quieting of the mind.

"Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

They started every morning with three sayings of Om. Very spiritual and poetic. Then Prem Uncle issued a challenge.

"Who wants to come up and deliver the morning news?" asked Prem Uncle.

Everyone was silent. Then out of nowhere a girl in the first grade started walking to the front of the assembly.

"Good morning, my name is Ayushka Singh, daughter of Mohan Singh and Parvati Singh. I live in the Keysore Village and I attend the Keysore Village School. Today is December 15th 2022. The quote of the day is by Albert Einstein. 'Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.' Thank you and have a good day."

Ro had two thoughts in his head. First of all, how is her English so good? Secondly, check out the balls on this one. Have to respect the confidence. Then Prem Uncle addressed the school once again.

"Today I have with me some friends from America. They are currently on a pilgrimage back to their village and I wanted to show them how a modern day village school runs. I also wanted to give them an opportunity to say some words in front of you." Uh oh Ro thought. He had seen this before but had never been the victim of such a tactic.

"First up I want Ro Singh to say a few words," said Prem Uncle looking over at Ro.

Well fuck. Ro had nothing prepared but he wasn't about to back down from a challenge. He figured nothing was worse than refusing to speak. So he made the long walk to the steps to address the assembly.

I mean what do you say? Who are you to say anything? I guess just speak you're truth. These were the thoughts going through Ro's head.

"Hello, my name is Ro Singh. My fathers name is Kumar Singh and my mothers name is Priya Singh," said Ro, copying the little girl.

All of a sudden he was nervous. He didn't know what more to say. He was quiet for about 30 seconds. That's a long time to be quiet in front of a crowd. He could feel his heart beating.

"You know I really didn't want to come today. I thought 'what's the point of going back to a village?' Yes I guess in the literal sense I do have some family there but I don't know those people. Those people know of me but they also don't know me. But then I saw you guys and I thought about something. My grandfather went to school in a village just like this one. They didn't have school busses back then so he had to walk three kilometers to and from school everyday. He was one of you. He started exactly where you all are now. Throughout the course of his life he moved his family, which included my father, from his village to the city of Varanasi. He wanted something more for his kids. My father went to school in Varanasi. Although he didn't have to walk three kilometers everyday, you guys are currently going to a much, much better school than he was going to. Throughout the course of his life he moved his family, which included a 7 year old me, from Varanasi all the way to New York City. He also wanted more for his kids. I don't say this to say that the only goal in life is to change locations to better and more luxurious places but I do think it is interesting that the story of my family, my story, started in a village just like this one. It makes me think that, if we go back far enough, all our stories start in place just like this. We all start here. Both my father and my grandfather were very lucky, but they believed that they made their own luck through persistent hard work. They were both religiously hardworking. They believed that if you work hard and dedicate your life to moving forward, you will. To them it didn't matter where you started, it only mattered that you never stopped. Thank you."