Sunday, July 21, 2013

Nostalgia - "Story of a Mango Tree"

It was like I had a rewind button on my brain, I pressed the button and it took me about fifteen years back, the house was vacated and it remained no more of my aunt’s she has moved into a different place a big bungalow, but the house that stands on the national high-way is still the same and the influence it has on the life is just too incredible. That is the house that stood in pride with the walls narrating the stories of the most beautiful moments spent with my loved ones “CHILDHOOD”, the best thing that can happen to any human-being during his stint here; the mango tree was once with full of mangoes hanging down the leaves; an abode to ants still remains still with the swing we had made for ourselves.

Summer vacation of two months with all the cousins jammed at a single point, tantalizing the taste-buds with mom-made yummy pickles and other delicious cuisines, reading stories from Tinkle digest where the characters like Shikari Shambu, Supandi, Shakti man, Spider-man existed the way they were described in the books; Tom and Jerry, Scooby-doo were cartoons and they were real tranquilizers to lungs, cricket enthusiasts enjoyed cricket commentary by just listening to a transistor with a cup of hot coffee and a plate of hot pakoras, celebrating festivals  by inviting the neighbors and spreading the happiness, best-wishes went in the form of greeting cards with a stamp on it; waiving hands at strangers sitting inside the bus and whistling at the moving bus just to get inside the crowded bus.
I remember a long distance travel just to reunite with my relatives, using postal services to post a hand-written letter to a cousin far away with a sketch of me and her holding hands together and jumping in the air, exchanging the well-being of each family member. The way I stopped the post-man anxiously by hand every time he crossed my house to check if a reply to my letter has arrived; the memories of how our childhood days were can never be forgotten, the way the ground beneath stood still when the word “TELEGRAM” was heard with a ring of the cycle bell from a post-man just to know if everything was fine with the closest ones or not; gone are the days when phones were used only for communication of something which really meant an emergency.
Gone are the days when the old granny from the closest shop nearby called me by my name and handed over a pocket full of toffees and bid me good-bye to school with her blessings, the days when I went crying to school asking mom or dad to fetch me hot food during the lunch-break just to have a glimpse of them while at school, the pranks at school and getting back a bag of complaints from a friend’s mother; getting irritated with a classmate of yours when she spoke to the girl or boy who you admired or had a crush on, trying to be the class teacher’s all-time favorite student, days when you sought help of your friend to complete the home-work by bribing him with a toffee. The way you waited for a friend at the bus-station just to receive or bid good bye to her with tears in your eyes, a small hug from a closest friend meant the world and the spark of jealous in each one’s eyes when the topper of class was announced. The farewell day which brought tears, a book called “SLAM”- “Some lines about me” – did really matter the most to each one of us.

Mom everyday woke me up at 7:00 am, but I never remember getting up so early, but the remembrance of me making her run over the entire house for the misplaced shoes, socks and ribbons still dawdles on my mind, the way I ran with half-dressed when the school-bus arrived and sometimes running behind the bus while my friends in the bus laughed at my plight, the screams that you let out jut for a pencil which your sibling stole away during your absence at home, the way you stole the half eaten chocolate away from your sister or brother immediately after gulping up the entire bar of yours, getting annoyed when your mother compared your marks with your friend’s marks sheet, the way you dirtied your white uniform and expecting the reprimands, the way you ran with a gang of friends with a piggy-bank, jamming-up for a cause. These are the days that are still as fresh as a morning daisy waiting for the first ray of sun, the list is never-ending and the words in the English dictionary are not enough to describe the life back then.

The world then was so simple, harsh words were spoken even then but the words spoken were forgotten but now we forget people and not the words, we need a phone call just to catch up with an old pal of ours who sat beside during school-days, things seemed stupid and illogical then but those are the moments we would love to cherish and not the days now where SLAM is replaced with Likes and Comments on Social Networking Websites, re-union means formally meeting up with friends in an exorbitant resorts, walking means going to a well-equipped gym which has a treadmill and laughing means joining a laughter club, the world is beautiful and it is us who makes it to be and not the technology or logical thinking always. The mango tree that has a swing tied to it still stands still with pride, the memories it beings to me is just too enormous and I know every one of us have a mango tree story for ourselves to cherish, saying this I sign-off. Happy memories

  

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