It’s amazing how long back you can remember. One of my first memories is that of my pre-nursery teacher! And, although I do not remember her name or her face, I remember her pastel colored sarees and the fragrance of her perfume! I remember saying my action nursery rhymes and then having strawberry jam sandwiches or aloo parathhas made by my mum and then putting our heads on our little desks for the post-snack nap. And then, after some more colouring and painting – my mother would come in our camel-coloured fiat car to pick me up. It was always a joy to see her. I was three then.
Strangely enough, once again, the only thing I remember about my first grade teacher, were her light colored printed sarees and her huge bindis. And another lady who wore her hair in a high knot, but what was remarkable was her colourful bangles. I was six.
Incidents, birthday parties, what spooked me and my little friends, what we wanted to keep under wraps and not talk about – that odd boy who stared into the girls bathroom, the odd girl who felt up the panties of other tiny girls… all those memories came in post 9. And this time, what I recollect are some names, the incidents of course, and eyes of the people! Yes, the focus moved from outerwear to features…
Amazing how memories and things associated with them change – and sometimes hit you hard, right in the face when you least expect.
I just walked into my kitchen that smelt of freshly baked muffins and coffee. I had gone down to switch off the oven. I was pre-occupied with the chores to do in the next three hours- driving kids to their activities, wrapping up my writing work and paying of the bills, shouting out to my husband who between his official calls was tending the garden.
All of a sudden, I wasn’t here! I wasn’t in my now anymore. Those warm fragrance of the soft, warm sweet smelling chocolate muffins and coffee suddenly took me to my 10th birthday! Mama had baked a chocolate cake. I had a few friends over at my granny’s house where the party was being held. Mmm… coffee was being brewed for the mums. For a second there, I forgot I was now in my mum’s shoes. Doing it all, organising it all, loving each moment of being a mum.
The sheer memory sparked by fragrance brought tears into my eyes. Tears of sorrow, for I missed her terribly. Tears of joy, for I had her in my life, Tears of love, for I loved my kids dearly. Tears of pride, for I saw the reflection of my perfect mum in my own eyes.
Yes, memories – they are unique in their own way. And that’s what makes you unique in your own experiences.
Why a blog on this? I think – why not!
This is one life – the one now we have where we can create more memories of joy, pleasure, fun… circumstances permitting or now – the memories we create now, mark our forever in the golden years of life. Perhaps, I am naive. Perhaps I am too young to think of what an 80-year-old might recollect and cherish or might not! But hey, the now is here. So why not make it memorable?
I bet when my little one bakes cakes and sips her coffee years away from my today – she will remember the fun times she had with me.. erm… provided the muffins taste as good as they smell 😉
beautifully written as usual aradhna.
you bring such poetry into the minutiae of life.
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Thank you Richa! I am truly glad you liked it. Thanks for the comment in the blog!
I read every blog of yours……waiting for the next one 🙂 🙂
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