I am often taken back
to the old corridors of our previous house -
the one that saw us grow old.
Its windows would let the fresh air in
that would blow over our text books,
those trophies we won in school,
the notebook our father kept-
the notebook he had kept for future
knowing not that the internet would soon take over
and maybe obliterate its value.
He would keep newspaper clippings safe
of the featured poems written
by my sister and by a younger me,
unaware that soon we would go so digital
we would lost count of the URLs
that would hold pieces written by us
to be lost forever
and maybe, found again someday.
It’s funny how we talk of nostalgia these days
when we would still have a lot of photographs
capturing our smiles, the places we visited,
the fun we had and the people we met.
For me nostalgia would sometimes
take me back to those days when
we used to run around in the house - all four of us,
the smiles that were not captured by any camera,
the moments untouched by any cellphones,
the thoughts uninhibited by any selfish desires of the future.
Oh, how do I say now that I’d miss my college days
when there is so much more just for reminiscence?
The science project I could not make myself,
for which, mother would’ve to return from work,
do her chores and still make the work presentable.
The same project a teacher would throw away
for she wouldn’t know any better
than to crush a child’s dreams
for her angst at her own family’s shortcomings.
A matter I would not understand until years later
when I find myself at the age of 25 and still imperfect.
A matter I would probably not understand again
when I’d turn wiser or kinder
as years of experience
would embrace this restless soul.
Probably there would be videos then
to look back at these days we’re talking of.
“Batch Photo sessions” and Facebook posts,
Numerous blogs and maybe this note.
But who can bring back those golden days
of the people whose lives have so changed,
of the days when dawn would break at 6
and the day would end at 20
when midnights were just times scary.
20 years later maybe it would be time
to reminisce these days when
we sleep at 4 and wake up at 12,
when we would talk of the brilliance
of a professor long gone,
or of a dear friend
who had gone so far.
As of now, maybe I’d just retain
the innocence of those four “children”,
make sketches of the past,
if I could make any better,
of the people I loved
but never saw again,
of memories I’m not so sure of,
if they were stories or thoughts
of realities so grave
or realities better than my now,
of my old house that still waves its hand
every time I walk by its lane,
the echoes of our laughter
still etched on its dying walls.
Another coat of a new paint-
Nostalgia of this age.
Hey Sanhita. Let me begin with saying that your writings are amazing! You have been one of the bloggers/writer's, who pushed me to start writing/blogging. I am very new(read one week) to all this but I enjoy it as hell! I mostly write about excerpts from my diaries, so far (have had one helluva journey, if u may say), and alternate it with some random topic , anything that comes to my mind! So far, people have liked my work but would really appreciate an input from you as well. You can find my work on
ReplyDeletemeinthisperfectworld.blogspot.com
Hope you enjoy!