from previous--

he  knew  how  stubborn her  habits  were, specially  hurting  herself  to  hurt  those  who loved  her, she  was  in poorly  pathetic  condition, starved  and  weak, 
farhin his  wife  was  such  an  angel  who  always  stood  by  him in thick  and  thin, whenever  he  needed  support  of  any  kind, 
he  remembered  how  he  missed  those  earthy  smells  of  his  native  village  , the  streets, the  tall old  shady trees , 
the  smell of  the  familiar  soil was  calling  him
his  past  , his  memories, his  growing  up  days  with his  friends  and  loved  ones
pouring  oil on haw thorny  heads, teasing  each  other, the love  of  the  taya  ji  , those  corridors  of  the  haweli, the  baradari  architecture  that  made  the  haweli  stand  out  from the  rest  of  the  township.

the  pond  where  boys bathed, the  village  grass lands  where  the  little  girls  played  games  they  would  remember  all their  lives
he  passed  the  landmarks  he  knew  so well, he  stopped  and  turned  to  look back, he  had  walked  some  couple  of  miles  , he  was tired  but  he  did  not  reach the  haweli