As I am grown now, reached a point in life where I do not care about what people think of me. Rather, I spent time remembering the time of my life when I was more conscious about other people of my life, friends, neighbours, strangers or simply, people, what they will think about me if I do this or that? I think, most of the people swim through various stages of life so differently. What if, we sit in a corner, on a cosy sofa, with a cuppa coffee, watch rain or snowfall through the glass window and think of the things which crossed our life at a certain point in life? It may be a big Banyan tree, maybe our pet, maybe an aquarium in the house, maybe the cat and her kittens, maybe an angel- who is no longer alive. The things or the persons who were our inspiration, who helped us to understand life, with whom we shared our grief or happiness, who was so close to our hearts but now they are nowhere. Memories give pleasure, bring the smile to lips with a sigh.
The undulating mind brings the memories of the school days when we learnt about life’s wonders. What were those wonderful things? The fruits, the flowers, the leaves, the trees, the mountains, the forests, the rivers, the list is endless. I remember, my first poem, I wrote on ‘mountains’ for my school magazine. On the last date of submission of an article, I asked my dad to help me writing something. I was a girl in class five, proud student, so it was shameful for me not to write an article for the school magazine. I was very worried about what others will think about my potential? So, it is the dad for every daughter, who keeps her safe from all odds! My dad too started giving clues to me. We were on the rooftop in the early morning, under the blue sky with little clouds floating, the hill ranges were clearly visible as I grew up in a city which was covered by the hills and the undulating hilltops were visible from everywhere of that city. Dad asked me to choose from mountains, sky and clouds and I chose mountains. The small child thought a lot, wrote something and dad edited it, the poem was published, my pride was saved!
I was not very good at drawing. Somehow I was managing to draw in my Science book as it is a must to draw and describe. I can remember learning drawing flowers and leaves from my mom. It was first Science lessons, the importance of Science was taught very well, so I could not ignore drawing right diagrams. The wavy edges of the leaves and flowers excited me. There are so many kinds of leaves and each leaf has a different edge, which can definitely undulate a child’s mind and heart. I can remember, how careful I was in drawing the edge waves so correctly! and then filling colours to the leaves. Similarly, collecting the flower petals and drawing them, describing them and filling colours to the flowers, Beautiful creations deserved ‘Good’ remarks from teachers and it was so pleasing. I used to count the number of ‘Good’s in my Science book and showing the books to my parents so happily.
The good old days were mine. My own past which will never return. They are there to bring smiles, bring tears. The time schedule is restricted, some time must be spent to think about the things which were dear to us. Hope I can write more about my childhood memories. Happy reading!