As each pleat of my pagh adorns the circumference of my head like an esquisite sapphire necklace, I cannot help but thinking that had my grandfather never made that long daunting journey from Calcutta to the U.K. in the 50s, then perhaps I too would be tying my pagh on the cold barren floor on Delhi’s doorstep as many of the daughters & sons of the Panjab are doing as opposed to sitting here in isolation and in relative warmth.
With the tying of each lahr (pleat) around the circumference of ones head, one cannot but think to the past, a past that seems so very distant but a past that really makes up ones very present & future.
Sometimes we run away from ourselves, sometimes we project a foreign light upon the very sparkle of our eyes forcing an end to ones rich lineage... a sin that’s one ancestor shall never, never forgive.
You long for home don't you?
Why then o you disown the mother culture.
Sanatan dharam.