Special Moments in My Hometown, Vidisha

“Kailash, mai tujhe apna scooter chalane ko nahin doonga, kyonki ek baar toone meri cycle tod dee thi.” ( Kailash, I will not give you my scooter to drive because you broke my bicycle once.)

Ashok, my childhood friend, bluntly refused to give me the key to his scooter. What a wonderful thing to happen to me after so many years! This was last week in Vidisha, my birthplace, where I spent the first 25 years of my life.

After a long time, I could find two days to spend with my family and friends in my hometown. However, it was not an actual holiday because my schedule included at least half a dozen events before I reached there. After all, going back to one’s hometown is always so special! Vidisha is rapidly expanding on three sides, but the neighbourhood where I was born is the oldest part of this ancient town with a rich heritage. The narrow streets with old houses and some Hindu and Jain temples and mosques tell stories of a rich and varied history. More than 2200 years ago, India’s famous emperor, Ashoka the Great, was married in Vidisha to a girl named Devi.

I wanted to relive some of my most inspiring moments, walking inside narrow lanes and streets I had not seen for several decades. I just entered some old houses where so many simple and pure-hearted people of four generations received me with shock and awe but unspeakable warmth and love. So much had changed, yet something essential remained. The soul of that place had quietly withstood the test of time.

I rushed to capture the beauty of every sight and tried to link it with my childhood memories. I walked inside some old monuments and temples with my nephews, Dinesh, Umesh, Pravesh, and niece Babli. It was like viewing the forgotten bits of my life like a reel slowly unwinding before my eyes.

I sat in my home. Looking at the old bricks and stone walls in my small and beautiful house, I thought about how they were instrumental in constructing the days, months, and years of my early life filled with joys and quiet struggles. It was here, in a small room, that I changed my name when the community ostracised me. On these very streets, I ran freely after finishing my homework, where monsoon rains would flood the lanes, and I first learned to swim in the water that gathered at our doorstep.

During my childhood, there was no electricity in our home – not even in our lane. We lived by the gentle glow of lanterns and traditional handmade lamp Dhibari. We would fill kerosene oil in a small glass bottle and pierce a hole in the cap for the wick, which was made with a strip of old cloth. All it took was the strike of one matchstick to light it. We would read, write, and go about our evening tasks in that quiet, golden light. In those everyday moments, I first came to love the fire hidden within a matchstick – the calm strength and power it holds to brighten a room. This was the inspiration for the name of my autobiography. Fortunately, there is a goddess Durga temple in the front, a mosque on the left and a Jain temple in the back of my home. So, I grew up listening to bells, arati and Azaan.

Nestled between the Betwa and Bais rivers, Vidisha holds immense historical, religious, and archaeological significance. We went to the river where I used to swim, and once, I almost drowned. That incident taught me to understand my shortcomings and make full efforts to improve before diving deep into anything.

One memory stands out vividly with my friend Ashok. On the advice of a Tantrik occultist, we searched for a ghost In the middle of the night at a cremation ground on the river bank. Ashok took off running in fear while I stood resolute and defiant. I was about 15 years old.  Even then, when we were different in our ways, we remained together in spirit.

During this trip, Sumedha ji and I spent several hours in Sanchi, a world-known centre of Buddhism. It is about six kilometres from Vidisha.  Sanchi was a constant presence in my childhood. Like my silent teachers, its serene stupas planted the seeds of the compassion I carry today. That sacred space, the spiritual harmony of Sanchi, played a profound role in shaping my philosophy and commitment to the oneness of humanity, peace and compassion. Samrat Ashoka’s two children, Mahendra (also known as Mahinda) and Sanghamitra, played a transformative role in spreading Buddhism beyond India, especially to Sri Lanka.

Being back in Vidisha and Sanchi felt like a full-circle moment for me. These places are the soil where the seeds of my future were first sown. It was here that my quest for freedom and compassion began. The quiet strength of these spaces, the stories etched into their stones and skies – grounded me then and reminded me now of who I am and why I began. Yet a critical thing remained! How could I miss the superb taste of Channu’s rabadi (a concentrated milk sweet dish) and Hira’s kachori (A deep-fried masala stuffed pastry). I thoroughly enjoyed the delicacies and couldn’t hold my temptation.