The Treasures

The broken video game symbolized many things.

I was ten year old and had gone to Bombay on vacation. The Video game was being sold on a beautiful shop and it became irresistible. After desperate persuasions, blackmailing and many tears I succeeded in getting it bought.

Today I found it. It took me back to a different world. It was the world of a kid whose worries were limited and desires small. And his world began and ended with his family.

To utilise my time at home, I was trying to clean it and the buried treasures kept coming back to me; or rather taking me back along with them. They meant a lot then; today they mean much more.

I found a picture of my parents. They were young and happy, and smiling too. My mother had put make up and my father’s face was serene. For me they would have been the prettiest couple, better than those of any fairy tale.

Why don’t you two look same today!

I found a statue of Buddha. There used to be a Dussehra fate in our town. I haggled with the vendor and bought it for one fourth. For next month or so, it was a must drawing room topic. Jaiswal uncle praised me a lot, Shukla uncle teased me in his familiar manner and my mother kept reassuring me that I had done a good job.

The statue was in good shape…………. but the dust had set in. An effort had to be done to see it properly.

I found a broken transistor too. To me, it was always broken. My father kept teasing my mother that it was the only thing he got as dowry. Enjoying that banter gave me absolute pleasure and I kept changing sides.

I was never allowed to open it and inspect; and my parents always thought they will get it repaired. Perhaps they forgot one cannot go back in time!

Everything that kept coming back had inscribed on it, people and places, and events too. They were happy and sad, dark and bright but they all greeted me with warmth. I told them that I loved them too; and many a times in my dreams, or when I am awake too; I desperately pine for them.

Crossroads

Let the PM wait; let the Bharat Darshan Chronicles wait. And let every agenda on my blog’s list wait. At present I just want to be myself. This is the time when I wish to sit and watch things passing by…… on the lanes of memory.

Before you are more perplexed by my incoherent musings, I must tell you the cause. My stint in Mussoorie is over. It was more that 9 months of LBSNAA, it was more than 9 months of ‘training’; and wasn’t it yesterday that I was preparing to go there.

The life there was good, the life there was life. I never noticed that I liked it, and I never noticed I was attached. But today I miss it all.

I miss you my friends when I loved you. I miss that too when I hated you all. Perhaps I never cared for you; or perhaps I was too shy to admit so. There were lives made, there were lives pined for. And I was honored, every time you shared that small secret with me.

Lest I forget; though I never will; I admit that I loved that coffee machine, I loved that lounge. And lest I forget; though I never will; I loved those two friends too, whom I pierced from my bouts of wise cracks.

There are things that stay there, as we move on in life; the clouds, the cold, the mountains and the ‘exhilarating’ horse riding (pun intended only for one who will get it). And now we will see the heat of the districts.

Coming out from this poetry mode, I must also tell you that I am going to do my district training in Bankura district of West Bengal. So if you see the inactivity on my blog, blame it on poor internet connectivity in interior districts.

Turbulence in life will also increase from the event that’s going to be in July. I know the consequences of using the word turbulence knowing that she will read this sooner or later, but can’t resist my humor though. I am getting married then.