...its yesterdays that I really own
I left in the rear so many things for a life time and now I
lament at my lost riches! Everything I remember leads me to the cores of my
heart where I hear echoes of constant whispers of coming back to rest in peace
of silent waves, forgotten gardens and deep blue sky. The tales of my autumn
window and sonnets of my elapsed slender roads track me every night and hark
back everything I miss by design. Memories fool around the most mystifying role
in my life and make me realize the realities I try to plot as a part of my
existence. I cannot even sense of a life without memories even though it is not
so amusing, I don’t know how much I get pleasure from my throbbing yesterdays,
they look so amazing.
I take in how much I enjoyed my petite things, the smallest hand-outs
and the rarest kisses, my clandestine upstairs and granny’s gossips, the temple
going and colorful bangles. If there is something left is me that seem so
vibrant those are the expressions of my broken bangle pieces I kept so close. If
there is something special as my favorite taste that is the spice of Tatteppa’s
ghee dosa and chutney’s I enjoyed the most. If there is something left in me as
my tradition that’s what my Granny taught me watching the nightfall, sipping
the tea. And if there is a fraction of me that loves every part of living those
are the seeds sawn by scores of beautiful hearts reassuring me every day. I
still keep everything as the matters of my heart and they take everywhere with
delight.
Rain drops, they fall inside me making me take the edge off
pleasure and spring in laughter, they washed off the sadden violinist inside my
soul and sang the melodist songs for building others sing along with me. I saw the
happy spirits who left the swathe of this planet smiling at me, calling me
their seraph of hearts; I went red at times and wrote million words in the last
pages of my torn notebooks, now ornamented by spiders under my staircase and
once a while when I fly back home I dust them with anonymous drops in my eyes.
I rediscovered the child in me when I read those lines and lived again through
my worlds, my prettiest memories of catching tiny fishes from the grimy damp
road water and splashing rain under my boots, carrying my multihued umbrella enclosed
in my paper bag and still getting wet to catch cold and shun going school.
Moonless nights, they at a halt engross me and receive me
back to those days when I sat in the terrace to count stars and improve my sums,
I made promises and wishes and sniveled often for my silliest of reasons. I
miss my broken pencils, unfilled home works and the candle lights with whom I
played all night, the little insects and their tender injuries and the playful
wind that blew my candles and made me go mad. I thought they will be skilled at
making me joyful but they left me often to the dark spells of life where I
walked and exchanged scratches. I silently remember my wounds I stared and protested
at my Mamma for not getting me my demanded stuffs. The hours I spend wrestling
with crayons for my Drawing exams and flashes I went crazy howling to Mamma for
getting zeroes for my Math tests.
Temple going and getting the first glass of kheer was my
best tour package of the week and the supreme joy. I went there to peek at the
temple pond, to collect the fetid flowers all my way and come home with a sachet
of groundnuts. I was stupid enough to stare at people and detect their dress
and bangles and make thunders at home to get one set next birthday. Collecting the
entire throw away resources was my preferred hobby and kept them as treasures beneath
my bed and under my clothes, it was beautiful when my entire world was my dear
little Appu Chetan, words cannot describe the handsome moments of our lives. I repeated
replayed and heard million times my much loved songs and made Mamma threw the cassette
away for charging peace, she was my universe because she bought those cassettes
again for making me hoot. And my dear books, they conquered me since
time immemorial and left a smile in my lips when I discovered the characters
similar of my days. I commit to memory the phone calls that reached me from my alien
Dada who prized me with enticing care and send me sacks of Japanese Crunches.
I cannot overlook the very branch of me who chase me when a
bit of it reaches me and calls me back; I cannot do away with this sentimental
numbness because they constitute the true me! Everything stupid reminds me of
something adorable, some colors, some tastes, some love and some emptiness; it’s
everything about something, the inseparable part of me. People say that I
scratch my past and live there and I envy people who breathe in their present
not because I want to search out of my yesterdays but it’s because they absorb
me as they are more foreword than me. Call me negative or insecure or dumb; I
still cannot survive without recollections. Everything will come to a conclusion
but memories are with the word forever and they don’t change when everything
around us changes. I don’t know why I cannot take pleasure in the splendor of a
moment until it becomes a memory and it’s hard to put out of my mind the miniature
fractions because they flush to my wits when something parallel get in touch
with my eyes.