We both stood there- looking at the vast sea of people and the city in our view. “What are you thinking of?” “You remember the last time we were here dad? Mom too was with us, about six years back. It was raining, and it had been declared a holiday…” “Yes I do remember…! And you had been dancing in the rain…” We both smiled… Yes I did remember that day clearly- the beautiful way that mother nature had manifested herself in, the way the leaves had been swaying to the rhythm of the raindrops and the manner the wind had been caressing them- it had been an enchanting day- I had lost myself to that magic of natural beauty I had been witness to at that time. And I remembered dad and mom smiling with me- reveling in my joy. I stood there now, six years later with dad.
“Recalling every moment aren’t you?”
I was jolted awake by dad’s comment.
“Yes.”
“I am happy you remember it all. It was a happy day. Look down at the city. Look at each building, each place where you have been. You have shared different moments with different people in all of them, right?”
“Yes…” I said, recalling some of those moments. “They were varied- happy, sad, solemn, exciting…”
“But you do remember them all. And they all make up your life- those memories- they all make each place memorable and they life an experience to cherish.”
I nodded- taking in each word.
“When you stand here the next time, you will look there and the city will be much more meaningful to you. The city will not be just an assortment of buildings and edifices, but, it will be a reminiscing chronicle to you then- which you will love to evoke time and again.”
I was mesmerized by what was said. The view in front of me gathered a whole new meaning as well.
“Each encounter in each place, each moment spent at the seashore, each laugh shared under the shade of the tree- it gives the place a life of its own. And it gives you a memory- a memory that you recall when you look there. And that spins the yarn of your life.”
I nodded in agreement. “That bus stop of Pt. Paluskar Chowk- it was just a bus stop at whom I didn’t glance even once, until I started going there everyday in the morning...” I smiled again as I recalled every season I had spent there in my school days- the mushy winters draped in sweaters, the stormy monsoons in the raincoats and the sweaty summers I had come there and waited for the bus to come to ferry me to school, at times, running for it when I was late and at times listening to the gossip of the office going ladies and grinning to myself when they compared their saree colours and the marks their kids scored.
We stood silent for a moment- recalling our lives maybe, and lost in the whirlwind of memories.
“It’s good then that I have a sharp memory then isn’t it?”
“Everyone does, is it possible to meet a person who has forgotten everything?” he said, with a mocking smile.
“Err… not unless he has had an accident I think.”
We laughed.
“Let’s go then.” It was beginning to get dark. I stopped in my tracks and looked back. Dad looked at me quizzically.
“Taking in a memory dad- of that tree- it’s a memory about memories.”
“Recalling every moment aren’t you?”
I was jolted awake by dad’s comment.
“Yes.”
“I am happy you remember it all. It was a happy day. Look down at the city. Look at each building, each place where you have been. You have shared different moments with different people in all of them, right?”
“Yes…” I said, recalling some of those moments. “They were varied- happy, sad, solemn, exciting…”
“But you do remember them all. And they all make up your life- those memories- they all make each place memorable and they life an experience to cherish.”
I nodded- taking in each word.
“When you stand here the next time, you will look there and the city will be much more meaningful to you. The city will not be just an assortment of buildings and edifices, but, it will be a reminiscing chronicle to you then- which you will love to evoke time and again.”
I was mesmerized by what was said. The view in front of me gathered a whole new meaning as well.
“Each encounter in each place, each moment spent at the seashore, each laugh shared under the shade of the tree- it gives the place a life of its own. And it gives you a memory- a memory that you recall when you look there. And that spins the yarn of your life.”
I nodded in agreement. “That bus stop of Pt. Paluskar Chowk- it was just a bus stop at whom I didn’t glance even once, until I started going there everyday in the morning...” I smiled again as I recalled every season I had spent there in my school days- the mushy winters draped in sweaters, the stormy monsoons in the raincoats and the sweaty summers I had come there and waited for the bus to come to ferry me to school, at times, running for it when I was late and at times listening to the gossip of the office going ladies and grinning to myself when they compared their saree colours and the marks their kids scored.
We stood silent for a moment- recalling our lives maybe, and lost in the whirlwind of memories.
“It’s good then that I have a sharp memory then isn’t it?”
“Everyone does, is it possible to meet a person who has forgotten everything?” he said, with a mocking smile.
“Err… not unless he has had an accident I think.”
We laughed.
“Let’s go then.” It was beginning to get dark. I stopped in my tracks and looked back. Dad looked at me quizzically.
“Taking in a memory dad- of that tree- it’s a memory about memories.”
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