When I was small, Dad used to frequently travel around the country on work. The morning of his arrival was a mini carnival for M and me, anticipating gifts and goodies from his sojourns. Our earliest memories were him getting us fairy tale books (I still have them, bound and
treasured). Coimbatore trips brought back soan papdis, om podis and books. Calcutta meant
Rosgollas, Mistidhois and Mithais. Bhavnagar or Surat augured lots of attire for us. We grew up, dad travelled less and the excitement fizzled.
When I moved on from Ruston, I left behind a lot of my stuff to ease out burdensome travel as I
did an impromptu roadtrip across the country. I did get part of it a little while later, but it
was not until this week, thanks to that lovable woman, was I able to get the reminder. I honestly
forgot what I had left behind, vague memories of some books and clothes were hovering around but that was it.I have the bag in front of me, and a motley thought of curiosity, inquisitiveness and excitement blends in my head.
My flutes, My roller blades, My music-thank god. CDs, MP3,s and a lot of wacky junk I deem hearable. I was grinning from ear to ear. A lot of my books including an amazing transalation of the thirukkural I had picked up from the Chennai Book fair in Jan'06. A small statuete of Vinayaga and the Ashoka pillar, carved in wood along with a bronze OM figurine, bought at Sundari Silks in T Nagar. My Coudroy worker pants, which was incidentally the first piece of clothing I bought in this country..and it still fits. I have stories for each and everything I found in that bag.
As I pored into my bag and pondered, anticipation doesnt always hurt. The fact that I was unaware of what was in store, made me enjoy the moment even more. Tiny things trigger memories, some unwarranted albeit enjoyable. The best part is when thoughts concatenate, leading you through various backalleys of your mind. You're lost, its all good.
For some wierd reason, I have been humming U2's Beautiful Day since morning,
What you don't have you don't need it now
What you don't know you can feel it somehow
2 comments:
When Aldous Huxley said "every man's memory is his private literature" he must had a darn good reason. :)
I am sure he did..:)
the fun part about memories though is the fact that however inconsequential we deem some of them to be, we tend to muse over them for a long time.
I dont know whether its healthy or not, but some of them do shape certain perspectives for the better.
Post a Comment