It’s funny that we don’t remember what we had in our last meal but we all remember what was ordered on our first date. As time scrolls by, it leaves behind memories imprinted in the deepest core of our hearts, but then why do we remember some and forget others?
We can never get rid of few memories, not because we want to but because they hold a special place in our heart and somewhere in the back our minds, we know that we will never be able to get them back. No matter how much you spend, you can repeat the order but you can’t get back your date who’s now gone. You can still see the horizon, but now you’ll have to struggle to see it through the skyscrapers.
Childhood was an era, which we being adults now thrive for. Childhood of the late nineties is a fantasy nowadays. Life was so simple in that phase. No worries, no packed up schedules, no crumbling relations, all we had was love, life and laughter.
The days when we preferred frocks over shorts and cakes over crepes, when life was much more than status and we dwelt in the joy of dressing in mud. I long for the days when my mother’s sari on the crooked branch of the tree in my backyard defined a swing and the pond in the field was my swimming pool. I miss standing on my rooftop to feel the sunsets when I see kids today trying to capture it in their 48MP lenses.
Today, when I see my cousins’ eyes glued up to their cellphones, playing games on the laptop, I look back into the field where we played all sorts of outdoor games and came home covered in dust.
We long for those summer evenings, the pleasant breeze, the load shedding common to all houses in India in summers which brought us all out of our houses to our neighborhoods where our mothers interacted, children played around and elders would discuss politics. Today in our modern technology homes, we have air conditioners to beat the summers but the natural cool breeze of March is what the heart longs for. Political discussions do take place, but the spot now for those discussions has shifted from ‘nukkad’ to ‘twitter’. Mothers still interact, but on whatsapp and children still form groups, not to play “kabaddi” but to play “PUBG”.
Vacations brought us the charm and happiness of visiting our grandparents’ house. The love and warmth the old couple blessed us with is incomparable to the lavish vacations and holiday destinations people spend money on.
Friends to talk about were the people we shared our tiffins with, people with whom we played hide and seek, and people with whom we quarreled but never had the fear of losing them. The friends; those people, and that innocence seem to have just evaporated in the act of growing up.
My heart cringes for the bygone days,
The hand woven sweaters, and the not-so lavish birthdays,
The playgrounds and the evenings full of life,
Bring me back those days when there was nothing to worry or any strife.