Sometimes, you always miss somebody so much that missing him becomes a forgotten conclusion…
Ani and I are waiting to be taken to school. I must be in 2nd grade and he in Sr. KG. Ravi mama holds our hands and off we go. Through fields, barren lands lined with huge rocks beside the salt pan… this was a shortcut to St Augustine’ High we took everyday.
On the way, he tells us stories; and shows us ‘mugran’ on the way. ‘Mugran’ is the term he created for shit left behind on the fields by people early in the morning…
In the evening, after he returns from work, he plays with us. Sometimes, whenever mom suffered from her ulcers, he cooks, cleans the overhead tank, and looks after mom!
He was like a brother to her and an awesome uncle to us. Though, he is no more a part of our lives anymore, Ani and I cannot forget him.
4 comments:
Welcome back Abhi!
I am so glad you started writing....hope your illness is nothing serious. Do continue with your childhood memories, the way you write - so poignantly and 'straight from the heart' never cease to bring a lump in the throat and stir the dying embers of nostalgia.
Take care of yourself.
Hi,
You seem to have disappeared again! do resurface and stir our imagination with your evocative writing.
gayathri
What happened, Abhilash? Run out of childhood memories? Try adulthood ones, now!!!
hey Gayathri,
You have been the most regular reader and commentator on my blog... I am elated.
Yeah, whenever such feelings occur I do try to ink them on paper. Thanks for being patient with me; something will come out soon.
Post a Comment