In the month of March, 2000, on the last day of my XII exams at my boarding school, I had signed off from my school. But somehow the school life and its memories could never do the same. They stayed back close to my heart.
Today evening, while playing a game of Football with Parimal, my eleven years old nephew (please note I don’t know the game. I play just to give company to my favorite kid), somehow the memories signed back in my mind.
It was drizzling, the first drizzle of the season. The atmosphere was filled with mist. Standing in middle of the ground, it felt like I was standing in the Assembly Ground, in blue, full sleeves pullover, by the side of the railing, trying to figure out the lake in the valley, whose existence I was aware of. I have spent many such evenings in my own company. I probably I loved my company too much or didn’t like the kind of companionship available to the extent that I preferred my own more. Whatever was the reason, those were good moments, and I call them good because now when I recall them I find a smile on my lips.
My nostalgia was hit by the ball Parimal threw at me. I looked at him. He was calling out, “Mama, hit… mama, hit the ball.” I smiled at him. He reminds me of my days at school. He is of age that’s exactly same as when I had joined school. I could see my childhood in him. Just that he is a little fatter than me (I wished to say ‘a lot’ but avoided as it could embarrass him) and he plays. He is a child of his age/times. I have always lived a different age than the one am supposed to. At that age I was supposed not to stand by the side of the railing and look for the lake through the rain. Rather I should have played the game of adrenaline-high football with my other classmates. And at this age, I am probably not supposed to run wild after a ball but watch news channels instead.
I guess that’s ok as the fun lies in living the age that you “want” to than the one you are “supposed” to.
But hold on! Does it appear as if I am complaining about something I didn’t do or am placating myself with the idea that I have lived my life as I like it?
Well I guess none is the case as I think my dear nephew lives his life exactly the way he wishes to. The thing is he wishes the same things as most of the children of his age wish, and which I didn’t when I was of his age. So it’s just a matter of different choices that we make and understanding those differences.
The evening was setting down. We were almost wet as we had a taken a bath with our cloths on. If played a little longer, we could have fallen sick. I asked him, “Shall we go?”
He replied with his trademark smile, “You tired?”
“Not really. But we are drenched and may fall ill.”
“Ok. Let’s go.” He hooked the ball up with his toes and held it in his hands. On way back home, he was talking about the game.
“Amazing fun, mama. Today I defeated you in both batches… hehe… you know in my school, I play as a defender mostly…. Most of my friends copy my style…” And he went on. I would look at him, smile and nod time to time, to be a part of the conversation. But I wasn’t there. I was lost in the reminiscences of my own childhood.
Today evening, while playing a game of Football with Parimal, my eleven years old nephew (please note I don’t know the game. I play just to give company to my favorite kid), somehow the memories signed back in my mind.
It was drizzling, the first drizzle of the season. The atmosphere was filled with mist. Standing in middle of the ground, it felt like I was standing in the Assembly Ground, in blue, full sleeves pullover, by the side of the railing, trying to figure out the lake in the valley, whose existence I was aware of. I have spent many such evenings in my own company. I probably I loved my company too much or didn’t like the kind of companionship available to the extent that I preferred my own more. Whatever was the reason, those were good moments, and I call them good because now when I recall them I find a smile on my lips.
My nostalgia was hit by the ball Parimal threw at me. I looked at him. He was calling out, “Mama, hit… mama, hit the ball.” I smiled at him. He reminds me of my days at school. He is of age that’s exactly same as when I had joined school. I could see my childhood in him. Just that he is a little fatter than me (I wished to say ‘a lot’ but avoided as it could embarrass him) and he plays. He is a child of his age/times. I have always lived a different age than the one am supposed to. At that age I was supposed not to stand by the side of the railing and look for the lake through the rain. Rather I should have played the game of adrenaline-high football with my other classmates. And at this age, I am probably not supposed to run wild after a ball but watch news channels instead.
I guess that’s ok as the fun lies in living the age that you “want” to than the one you are “supposed” to.
But hold on! Does it appear as if I am complaining about something I didn’t do or am placating myself with the idea that I have lived my life as I like it?
Well I guess none is the case as I think my dear nephew lives his life exactly the way he wishes to. The thing is he wishes the same things as most of the children of his age wish, and which I didn’t when I was of his age. So it’s just a matter of different choices that we make and understanding those differences.
The evening was setting down. We were almost wet as we had a taken a bath with our cloths on. If played a little longer, we could have fallen sick. I asked him, “Shall we go?”
He replied with his trademark smile, “You tired?”
“Not really. But we are drenched and may fall ill.”
“Ok. Let’s go.” He hooked the ball up with his toes and held it in his hands. On way back home, he was talking about the game.
“Amazing fun, mama. Today I defeated you in both batches… hehe… you know in my school, I play as a defender mostly…. Most of my friends copy my style…” And he went on. I would look at him, smile and nod time to time, to be a part of the conversation. But I wasn’t there. I was lost in the reminiscences of my own childhood.
2 comments:
sweet!!
I know this one IS close to your heart...
But I have read better stories of yours!
Cute though. I love Parimal :-)
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