Often as I row the boat of my existence through the river of life I catch myself reliving moments past, that cannont be relived but in the blink of an eye.
I see the world from whence I saw it at the age of 8, or 9 or even 10. It too clear...as if trying doubly hard to put digital to shame.
Blink. I'm walking along the street, my mother to my right, the hot air trying to keep with the commotion about it. The pungent kerosene smell of the rickshaw whirls about me as it put-put-puts along its way a weary traveller peeping out into the bustle. Nameless hawkers enticing my eyes with their bright ballons of red and gold. The fresh vegetables tiring under the heat of the late evening slowly sweating out their freshness.
Blink. The train is rocking lazily along past Dadar, Elphistone, Mahalaxmi, Bombay Central, Grant Road, Charni Road....always so sure footed on its way to Chruchgate. All around me big people grasp something anything to remain stable through the rockings. I needn't worry...the limbs of the tall people will keep me solid.
Blink. My gumboots are heavy with water. The rain will not relent...school or not. My backpack is heavy with the useless books. The grueling schoolday lies ahead but all my thoughts are focused on getting home...being dry, away from this tireless monsoon that withers me from the inside out washing away every thought I pretend to have.
With each fibonacci blink another memory comes rushing back....beaming me to a time long gone....but not gone at all.
Posted by Mr. Keyur at October 18, 2002 03:17 AM