To And Fro

24 Feb

If there’s one habit I’m trying to inculcate this year, it is to write more regularly; sometimes because I want to and sometimes because I think it is absolutely necessary to. I guess it’s on the same lines as how important it is for a singer to do their riyaaz every day and for a sportsperson to be physically active on more than just a regular basis. I’m trying to see it like that because, well, I’m no seasoned writer and I have no stories or books to write just yet, but because I love writing too much and I realize there is just so much I’m missing out on because I don’t seem to document them enough.

Of course it would be a tad too insipid and teenager-ish of me to jot down each and every single detail of my day, every day, for you. I’m sure none of us wants that sort of reporting. But I’ve begun realizing how important it is to be able to put down one’s thoughts, feelings, experiences and expressions with as much ease. I find it hard to do so on a regular basis and I’ve got to give somewhere. I’m going to try. I’m going to keep reminding myself. And I’m going to try some more. Wish me luck.

In light of what I just said, I must give my innumerable thanks to power naps. Why? Because, yes, apart from me being a completely random weirdo (which you guessed right), and because I love them dearly, I had so much to tell you about the weekend that passed and since it was so hectic and writing today would just about make my post to the not-so-stale-chunk, that power nap snapped me out of a budding migraine and allowed me to be here. Writing about the last three days tomorrow would just not be okay, especially after all that I just began my post with.

photo 1 (5) photo 3 (4) photo 2 (7) photo 4 (4) photo 1 (6) photo 2 (6)A friend and I were long thinking of visiting one of the city’s most popular parks. Apart from being something one must do in order to refresh one’s soul (and lungs), it’s something that seldom strikes us as a thing we must do for various reasons. We always pass this park when we’re out on weekends especially and we’ve always wanted to just go for a stroll in it but it never happened until this past weekend.

It’s amazing what the combination of a walk, nature, friends, the setting sun, the sound of birds at dusk, rustling leaves and a multitude of childhood memories can make you feel like. There are moments when the experience of all of them put together shuts the world out; where passing traffic out in the distance stops making a difference, as if muted by more beautiful sounds that rustle out your life’s book you’re reading and experiencing all at once. There were people around, but there was no intrusion. There were children but we felt just as young. There were bamboo thickets bustling with crow families having their evening baths in the park’s brooks. There were memories of picnics; school day trips complete with a straw hat, a hanky pinned in a triangle on our pinafore, a tiny green Frooti tetra pack which was too much to finish back then, and of course, a pack of Yummies in mint or chaat masala flavours. There were waves of time lapses where you wondered how far back it was that you were physically a child but still had some bit of that time left in you because you were here, today, and still felt the same sense of awe.

photo 4 (3)

My friend and I were perhaps the only ones who made it for the impromptu toy train ride as the only “adults” unaccompanied by minors. It was strange and it was a ride down memory lane. It was a weird mix of everything; old and new, past and present, past and future, present and future, the twinge of my childhood gone by and the current phase of life I love so much, of reminiscing and creating new memories.

photo 3 (3)

I guess there’s no right time to embrace the moments that have passed. Yes, rounds of beers and old school music do the trick most often, but it’s nice to forget time and let go. It’s lovely to have reality take you back apart from the regular, cliched way of having memories disembark your time machine over peals of laughter and sighs at pub tables and faded (but still sensitive) crushes. There’s no good time to go back. And there isn’t a better time either.

(Coincidentally, it took me some rather sharp whistles from a guard on duty to realize that I was in a playground for kids aged 10 and below. Clearly, I wasn’t looking. Or thinking. For once.)

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