The Balancing Act

Why is it that certain childhood memories never seem to fade away, no matter how many times I think about it or write about it or visualize it or go back in time.. I do not seem to get enough of it. I know I am on the wrong side of thirty but surely I have not reached an age where my life’s sequences have taken a tumbling and the bottom most has come to the top and vice versa. Not that I hate anything about my childhood ,at least not about the part which I spent in Kerala, with my grandparents, thinking about it makes me realize time and again that I am a loner, even those days I liked to sit alone with a book or my box full of toys playing alone. or just to loiter around the house or sit on the verandah and gaze at the green paddy fields which stretched beyond…. Even today when I am sitting amidst a crowd I feel alone.. I have friends but I always long for someone to whom I could talk freely, without being judged and somehow I always end up talking to myself and yearning to write it...

Just finished reading a collection of short stories of Ruskin Bond. He is such a natural and perfect writer, he takes you along on his trips through the hills, amidst the oak trees and deodar trees which he seems to love so much. The rains in the hills and the blue zig zag lightnings, the pine trees, the small ponds and the slippery roads after a good rain gives such a pretty picture of nature in its full glory for people like us who are always thirsty for greenery as we are living our lives in midst of concrete jungles. How I wish I could lay hands on every single piece of literature written by him, just enjoy the books leisurely, imagining each scene described by him , understanding the simple, rustic characters in the book . I have given the collection of short stories to my daughter to read, I hope she would enjoy it equally..