Finally, when she walked into her New Purubari village, she leapt and wept till she was drenched in salty waters dripping down her eyes and face. “My uncle carried me, my mother hugged and wept while my father stood in a corner,” she said.
“I slapped him. How could he just leave me there and never come to check on me? I was not an orphan, but always felt like one.”
Once she got united with her mother and safely tucked in her old home, she confides, “I think I am 16 or maybe 17 now,” further adding, “I went when I was tiny and have come back all grown up. I had forgotten my family, my language, my home. I am slowly reconnecting.”
She was born in a tiny village named New Purubari in the heart of a tea garden in Biswanath district in Assam. But alas, she has little memory of her hometown!