In shambles

I've just about returned from a trip to Kerala, that's where they say my roots lie. And this time around I traced them myself. The process in itself was exciting and enduring and the end, rather anti-climactic.
A long, long drive on the NH47 -- bordered by coconut trees and paddy fields -- from Cochin to Palakkad took me to a small hamlet called Pazhumbalakode. That's where my great grandfather once lived as the village head or the 'adhikari'. It's a village that one is most likely to miss. It's probably meant only to be discovered by wanderers -- ones who've lost their way on a long and arduous journey.
The narrow pathway leading into the village is amplified by the chitter, chatter from the adjoining school. The path remains narrow till it diverges towards the pond/lake to the right. Straight ahead are the homes lined up one after another in a perfect line on both sides.
I was escorted by this lady who claimed to know my grandfather and kept questioning the family's integrity over leaving the village. 'And that too, when you're the adhikari? Unimagineable. Tch tch,' she kept saying. 'And for what? A luxurious life in a big city. Does it suit a brahmin to do any such thing, eh? Tell me, tell me.'
I responded with faint smiles for lack of fluency in malayalam and tact of handling old women who believe they've seen enough life and have the ultimate authority over anything under the sun.
I asked her if she could lead me to my ancestral home. She was more than happy to play my guide. 'Just two minutes ahead,' she said. I followed her. A few more steps and she stopped. Pointing at what was an apology of a house she said, 'That's it.'
No, no, no, I told myself. But that was it. That was what was left of my ancestral home. A 10x15 ft wall. Covered in moss. With a door that seemed to have been shut since at least half a century. It might just have needed a gentle push to see it all come down. But nobody had bothered. It was a wretch. A complete one at that.
I could only imagine what it would have looked like when my great grandparents, grandparents and the rest lived there. Should have made for the house that every villager envied for being the biggest in the village. I would also like to assume that it would have made for the most beautiful home in Pazhumbalakod. Grant me that.
Initially, I didn't know what to feel. I was confused. I then felt saddened by not being able to see an integral part of my heritage in all its glory. Then shame crept in while I stood in front of the shambles.
I stood there gaping at MY home for a couple of minutes, took out my camera, clicked a few pictures and walked along with village lady after being nudged twice.
I turned around. One final look. One final good bye. I then thought to myself -- maybe one day when I am really rich, I could buy the space back and build the adhikari's home again.
Some consolation!