I have many memories flooding in me, nostalgia has it's grip around my neck.
From that summer days lying on the floor with my cousin and falling asleep, to going to my favorite park, traffic park in Nagpur with dad and trying to reach the sky on swing to playing with a girl who became my bestie in a day or two who told me that when plane crosses from your house, don't go on roof or they will give you a rose and kidnap you and so many more insane lies, to visiting my neighbors house and watching om shanti om for first time on that bhaiya's pc to going to restaurant, Rasoighar, the name of the place, as a prize on getting good marks. I remember being enchanted by the lights there and the simple decoration that felt like wonderland to me back them. I remember feeling happy.
From sitting in train on summer vacation waiting to reach my nani's house, playing silly games with my sisters, sacrificing my eyebrows to be done with a rubber band because my sister learned that from her friend, to sharing lotte choco pie chopped into little quadrants in whole family because it was new to market and dad bought one pack with family of 9 kids and many more adults, to the time I slipped and wounded my pinky toe because me and my sister thought it would be nice idea to slip on soap floor while bathing and the cows my nani took care of, the garden was green for most times, my nana's hobby. I remember feeling home.
From watching the carpet of Parijat each morning of springs with dad while I waited to be picked up for school, to that embarrassing memory of me running in school during lunch because my parents visited school and I wanted to look cool, to all the didis and friends in my auto and that one time driver uncle treated us with popsticks, and I stained all of my shirt and skirt with it, to the colony where we waited for other students and the koyal's voices singing early morning, to the boy I danced with for school programs, to playing with all those forgotten faces and nameless humans with crayon shreds and sharpeners. But I remember I was smiling noticing things.
From chopping my hair and throwing out of balcony, front side of the apartment that too, to visiting the house beside ours that looked like a mansion to me back then, to that aunty putting mishri mala around me on Holi to stealing unripe mangoes from the trees from a neighbor's house, to going to my mausi's apartment and all those unfamiliar alleys and roads.
From the weird chaos on my birthdays to the times my dad fed me each day and how I threw a hand on dad and one on mum while sleeping to show I loved them equally while sleeping, to being recorded dancing by my dad while my mum singed the songs and I danced around and sitting on the walls watching Ganesh visharjan with nani and eating ice cream because I got my teeth removed that day from by a dentist and to the time I was left at my dad's friend house and all the fun I had with his daughters.
There are so many more I didn't wrote but those times were so nice, some were not, but most were, or they seemed. Because
From being beaten by my mother over something silly and told to sit out of house on stairs for hours until I said sorry, to my dad putting pencils in between my fingers each time I made mistake in maths, to getting scolded because I couldn't cycle properly when I was learning it to that friend's father death, I saw his dead body in coffin and people crying, I was crying in my room later, I didn't know why back then , I was a kid, death was a foreign concept, to the countless time I fell and broke my knees and lips and burnt my hand, to that night my dad was watching a robbery documentary and I had a nightmare of being kidnapped while I was sleeping in same way, to being told how house was more peaceful when I wasn't there, and that feeling of jealousy for my unborn sibling because I was scared I will lose the love I had. I remember feeling ridiculed by my mother over simple things I thought was love.
Now that I think everything seems made up, or just unreal. Do other people remember it all? was all of this only special to me? were the smiles other gave me real? because I remember it all, the happiness I felt as a kid in this little things, how life was just simply colored and some things have left such a deep memory in me, they resurface once in a while drowning me in memories I want to relive. Those 2 and a half year of my life seems the only happy period I had in constant, ever since then I have had happy moments but not a happy period of life. I wish it didn't lose it colors and every feeling stayed the same. But is that past even same as I remember? would it have been different if we never moved here, if I didn't turn out like this? If my family didn't got more problems added? would things be different if my life like the memories never changed? I am mourning the life I lives and grieving the lost potential, but is there any way that went back and stayed same?
