Do you remember, do you anticipate?

"I remember, I remember the house where I was born", do you?

If you don't, worry not. The words quoted must have come from someone with a super-memory. More probably, his parents had told him or her years later, "Look, this is where you were born in ...." So, what the person remembers is what was told to him, not the fact of the place of birth known personally at first hand.

Recently I happened to be, not where I’d been told I was born, but a place I personally remember I had visited and stayed in.

It was a house in a village in deep southern India, to which I had been taken to with my parents when I was coming up six years old. It was not a shining India then, nor incredible India as claimed now.

But it was a charming little place, with fields around, a rough earthen path to come into by, a couple of temples, and a variety of vegetables and fragrant flowers all grown within walking distance. A month back I went with my son and grandson, the latter coming up now six! Has the world changed? You bet it has!

Gone are the old paths and gardens. The roads are now paved and tarred. There was no electricity then; now wires criss-cross up above. Buses and lorries ply incessantly, raising dust and spreading smoke. Flowers and vegetables are taken to the nearest market, or a much farther one.

They have to be bought there and brought back to the village, if it can still be called that, what with everyone having a bike and cell-phone. The village has paid a price for turning modern. Instead of going to the river to bathe and fetching drinking water from it, residents get piped water supply, though erratically. Communication is not by word of mouth, or by post card. It is at the speed of light through the Internet.

To the surprise of all of us, we were able to locate the old house still, and down the narrow street there still stands the Perumal Temple, though in a sad dilapidated condition. From that temple, after the bell had pealed for evening worship, for the benefit of those who could not go to the shrine, the priest went house to house, distributing blessings and prasadam. We could not be sure if this practice still exists.

But it was a great feeling to see that old house, and sit on the pial (thinnai), meant for visitors and friends to gather together and chat. The box camera was about all that was known then. The picture you see alongside was taken digitally.

Comfort comes, but with it must charm go? Anticipate.