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8th May

I wonder if you have noticed this that when one gets down to reading a lot he/she is suddenly struck by an urge to write. So today I am struck by the quill bug. It is rather romantic to imagine that typing is equivalent to dipping a long feathered quill into a pot of ink and to see the letters that appear on the screen as words that unfurl over a piece of parchment. But I digress.Fortunately for those reading this write up, this is not going to be the kind of cryptic stuff I usually put up here.It is something real, something without frills, something straight from my heart. I remember when I left my previous blog for this one, it was in quest of a place where I could finally start writing more about me and more about my real time thoughts. The move was with an intention to do away with the habit of being careful about what I want to say, lest those prying eyes catch me unawares and rip me apart.

Yesterday was a very special for day amma, dinks and me. It was a day that bound us all together in a way which remains special only to mothers and daughters. No I am not talking about Mothers day which I suspect is also round the corner, May 13th I think. You see yesterday was ammama’s birthday. It’s been 2 years since we last celebrated her birthday. That day, the whole family had come down to be with her, knowing that it would probably be her last birthday in this world and it was. Incidentally that year, Mother’s day was also on May 8th.At this point I am tempted to turn this post into a catalogue of events that led to her fateful departure but I am going to refrain and curb my natural inclination of writing woeful posts.

Ammama; the word alone encompasses so many emotions that I cannot even imagine doing justice to what I actually feel when I hear that one word. So today I will just stick to my oldest and dearest memories associated with that word. It brings back summer holidays filled with fun and laughter with occasional disciplinary bouts. I can almost feel the same anticipation I used to feel when the train Tamil Nadu express used to fly past Mandedeep, a sure indication that Bhopal was round the corner. Thathaji, Shrawan and Goswami bhai would wait for us at the station at night and amidst loads of talking and exchange greetings we would head towards E-7 Tripti, my maternal grandparents home. I can almost see ammama rush out the gate to greet us and smell the freshly laid out sheets in the upstairs bed room specially made and set for us. The cooler was always a novelty back then, as in Madras (I refer to Chennai as Madras here simply because it was just plain old hot and sultry Madras then.) the concept of A/c or cooler was still alien. The summer holidays would fly away watching loads of movies on cable TV/VCR, trips to Chouk/New market, home made ice creams, morning walks with thathaji near the lake, visiting aunties and uncles, new clothes and yes carrot halwa .Yum!

Those were some of the best summers of my life, when there were no board/semester exams around the corner, when engineering and doctor (Remember the doctor set?) were mere words out of a child’s play, very much like teacher-teacher and lastly but not the least the software bug had not yet caught on. Maybe they were the best years because I was still young enough to find highest amount of joy in smallest of things;mango shakes,morning walks et all. Maybe it was a time when I could still blissfully play unaware of anything but my own little world.Still, I am sure the same carefree years would not have been half as good as they were, but for my ammama. She made sure in every way possible that those 30 days remained the best ever. For showering us in that sort of undeterred slefless love, she deserves a tribute of its own kind.

Love you so much ammama. Miss you terribly.

1 comments:

Raaga said...

The 7th of May for me and the 8th of May for you. Life is nothing but these memories that make it.

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