It is in these special moments that i look back and reminisce the past. All those memories tucked preciously somewhere in the mind, suddenly starts running in front of my eyes like a slideshow. A few snapshots flash back and forth .......I try to capture those moments in my palms but they slip out through my fingers like sand.
I still remember those sun soaked days of childhood......stealing fruits from someone's garden with those notorious comrades under the sun drenched summer heat.........those fishing trips to the small pool cradling peacefully in the midst of the dense growth..........running unceasingly for miles chasing butterflies......the first burst of monsoon playing truant in our not-so-mundane lives........
Childhood memories are like beads in the chain of memories strung together cautiously with care.........something which is preciously kept in one's wardrobe and sometimes taken out to wear it again to remember those blissfully blessed days of innocence.In the words of John Denver's melodious voice,he aptly sang, "Country roads take me home ......to the place i belong,west Virginia,blue ridge mountains................memories gather around in a puddle."
Sometimes sitting by the window with a cup of tea in hand and gazing out into the distant horizon while the sky changes into the inside of a mussel shell, a cornucopia of memories would arrest me unarmed and i can't help it but a smile would curl up on my lips......... probaly a radiant hue emanating from my eyes. Again i would be transformed into a different world.........the world of my memories defying space and time. Just like in the wisps of smoke curling up from my hot cup of tea, i can see those innocent burst of laughter filling up the room, those long forgotten faces now becoming more vague and soon melting into the background, those old familiar places now left all alone to the ravages of nature.
Sometimes i miss those dreaded spanking of my mother after any mischief and my subsequent hiding behind my grandma's back,nervously twirling the ends of her saree in my tiny fingers.For years she was like my protective shield......a samaritan on my path with an indomitable spirit..........for in those days the defination of fear just centred around in being caught for either dozing off while doing your homework or for stealing those ever enticing delicious cakes stacked up high somewhere in the kitchen without my reach.And it was always my grandma who would come to my rescue and cover up for all my notorious endeavours.I still wonder in amazement by the number of "convincing" stories she could fabricate within a few seconds ............and all just for my sake!! Just to save my skin from my mother's piercing eyes!!
