I was on my vacations, had given my 12th standard board exams. So with nothing to do, I went to dad’s factory.
I wanted to be an industrialist like him. Dad suggested I go and work on the factory floor. The lower section was the moulding section, and the first floor was the textile bobbin’s section.
I preferred the first floor. The moulding section was too hot (literally) for me to handle. I preferred the lathes and drills in the textile bobbin’s section.
Furthermore, the people in textile bobbin’s section were a little more refined. They could talk to me, and we used to chat in between work. The moulding section had crude workers who were not so good at holding a conversation.
I hated Ratnagiri then, where the factory was, now after 30 years, I am nostalgic. I yearn for that place. The silence in the small town of Ratnagiri used to frustrate me. Now I feel like I should retire there.
Things change as you grow older. I miss the people from that place. A big price to pay for hating the place that it comes back into your memories and haunts you like a long-lost love.