While I stood on the threshold of my teenage years, my mother, on my thirteenth birthday - tugged me inside the blanket and whispered - "The only thing constant in life is change. The quicker you accept it, the happier your life would be." The words seemed to pierce into my mind like light in the darkness. The change came in phases. The mischievous life, childishly tampered with the buttons of consequences which fell upon the shoulders of me and my loved ones. Once such instance reverberates within the valleys of my mind and has ingrained itself within it's core -
I shut the bathroom door behind me after taking a cold shower
on the warm summer evening of Kolkata. It was just hours before we would take the train back to Ahmedabad. The visit to my roots, my home-town, was always a moment worth the wait. The sounds of laughter and joy echoed in the room where my grandmother had lay for 4 years. The door was kept shut, considering the hot temperature, the air-conditioner was on. As I eased the door to open a bit, and peeked in through the space, I saw everyone surrounding the bed and reminiscing about the days when we lived together.
The time seemed to meander, oscillating from past to present. It had been more than a decade since I had moved with my mother and father to the alien state of Gujarat. Alien to the culture, the people, the place… although geography had made us aware of this land, yet we lacked the knowledge of experiencing it. The prospect of discovering a new city comes with its territory of a fading bond with the city you were born in. Although we visited our home-town once a year, the alien city seemed familiar; In the uncertain passage of time in the new city - it had become home. While our relatives and family remained in Kolkata, we came from foreign lands to meet them. Of course, a year worth of experiences and “news” is difficult to share in a matter of days.
Time flew by, and there was never enough time to catch up with how had life changed in a year for them and us. However, the fact that we would return a year later with the same faces waiting for us was comforting. This time though, it was different. As I edged on the threshold of independence, of loosening up bonds and creating my own - I would start going to college and live separately in a matter of year. The uncertainty that loomed around me as to when I would return to this place was unsettling. Everyone realized that, and rightly so, had decided to make the most of the time that was left.
I went inside the room and adjusted myself into a small space of bed. Everyone was talking of the great memories they had had. My father talked of his childhood days while my aunt narrated the same with expressions of euphoria. My grandfather talked of his accolades and how his children were always up to something. My mother talked of my childhood, when our family stayed together in a 3 bedroom flat on VIP Road. Neither me nor my grandmother spoke, mine was by choice and while her was by disability. The voices were flashbacks of the days we spend together.
The time always seems to fly by, but memories of the people who we love always remains. This keeps us humane and gives us strength to fight through the chaos whirl-winding around us.
on the warm summer evening of Kolkata. It was just hours before we would take the train back to Ahmedabad. The visit to my roots, my home-town, was always a moment worth the wait. The sounds of laughter and joy echoed in the room where my grandmother had lay for 4 years. The door was kept shut, considering the hot temperature, the air-conditioner was on. As I eased the door to open a bit, and peeked in through the space, I saw everyone surrounding the bed and reminiscing about the days when we lived together.
The time seemed to meander, oscillating from past to present. It had been more than a decade since I had moved with my mother and father to the alien state of Gujarat. Alien to the culture, the people, the place… although geography had made us aware of this land, yet we lacked the knowledge of experiencing it. The prospect of discovering a new city comes with its territory of a fading bond with the city you were born in. Although we visited our home-town once a year, the alien city seemed familiar; In the uncertain passage of time in the new city - it had become home. While our relatives and family remained in Kolkata, we came from foreign lands to meet them. Of course, a year worth of experiences and “news” is difficult to share in a matter of days.
Time flew by, and there was never enough time to catch up with how had life changed in a year for them and us. However, the fact that we would return a year later with the same faces waiting for us was comforting. This time though, it was different. As I edged on the threshold of independence, of loosening up bonds and creating my own - I would start going to college and live separately in a matter of year. The uncertainty that loomed around me as to when I would return to this place was unsettling. Everyone realized that, and rightly so, had decided to make the most of the time that was left.
I went inside the room and adjusted myself into a small space of bed. Everyone was talking of the great memories they had had. My father talked of his childhood days while my aunt narrated the same with expressions of euphoria. My grandfather talked of his accolades and how his children were always up to something. My mother talked of my childhood, when our family stayed together in a 3 bedroom flat on VIP Road. Neither me nor my grandmother spoke, mine was by choice and while her was by disability. The voices were flashbacks of the days we spend together.
The time always seems to fly by, but memories of the people who we love always remains. This keeps us humane and gives us strength to fight through the chaos whirl-winding around us.
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