Sunday, April 29, 2007

Anniversaries of the heart..


“The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart,
The secret anniversaries of the heart”

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


The sun rays slant across the dry field coating it copper gold.The earth was dry, ,brown, and crusty. Blooming bougainvilleas blazed here and there. Fluffy white clouds wandered lazily across the sky.

I listened to a group of teenagers playing cricket on the other side of the field. Their shrieks and yell filling the warm summer air. Exams were over..


My mind floated back lazily to those long lost summer hols at my Amminja’s with my brood of cousins and neighboring kids.

Thirty years have vanished.

I can feel the hot summer sun burning my skin. I can hear my uncle talking, my Aminja’s laughter leading the rest.

Those mad days

Hot sunny days, Summer frocks, Lush juicy mangoes, Burgeoning jack-fruits, iced lemonades ,fragrance of jasmines blooming at dusk, summer storms.

Playing Cricket, badminton and football, the hot sun burning our brown, sweating, grimy bodies.

Ice-sticks, red yellow and milky white.. bought and savored secretly from the ice-cream man

Raw mangoes cut and mixed liberally with chilly, salt and coconut oil shared in damp dark leafy corners our tongues burning, our eyes watering.

Watching the thunderclouds build up with excitement and impatience … jumping and leaping around in abandon and delight as the heavens open and the rain lashed across drenching the dry crusty earth.

Balmy summer nights performing plays in the portico as adoring adults clapped and cheered.

Dark- Room pillow fights…

Make believe tree houses…. picnics….swimming, fishing.

The excitement. the wonder ,the love the sharing,the security.

The delights of childhood celebrated those long lost summers.

Captured forever in the fragrance of jasmine,the mangoes, the lemonades, the balmy summer nights. the fresh morning air following a night of summer storm.

One summer and many summers after that, a red rose was found every morning at the bottom of the huge flight of steps that led to my grandparents home . We came to know that it was from a secret admirer. A lanky teenager in the neighborhood who adored a lovely cousin of mine.

This made our summer hols all the more exciting. I remember running down the steps early morning giggling and laughing as we spotted the rose.

We are now spread out in different parts of the globe leading different lives.

But those shared summer hols bonds us forever permitting us to pick up where we had left off on the rare occasions we meet

We are kids again, giggling as we remember this…teasing as we remember that…thoughtful as we remind each other that the lanky teenager still remain a bachelor supposedly pining for my lovely cousin.

The sun had dropped below the rim of land. The boys had finished their game and gone home. A faint breeze cooled my skin .The trees were turning an ominous black.

’ Sweet are the memories you left behind’

I silently thanked my long gone Amminja as I walked back home for accommodating the whole brood with pleasure.

Gifting us beautiful summers.. Holidays of the heart that are remembered every summer..not restricted by the passage of time.

15 comments:

silverine said...

Wow!!!

This made me soooo nostalgic. Blessed are all the Amminja's of the world for the happy place called childhood.

mathew said...

beautiful..scarce words..but conveyed a whole gamut of times we had..

The Common Man | പ്രാരബ്ധം said...

It makes me soo nostalgic when i hear the word 'Nostalgia' .. he he

Well written doc....

can I expect a mail plzz?

Anonymous said...

:) sounds like you had a lovely time back then. i could almost feel it.

Anonymous said...

you have this mallu song - oru vatam koodiyaa.. you know that would fit in here.. but this again shows us an alarming phenomenon.. the ice sticks are not appreciated by many these days.. replaced by the MAC culture.. but what is more worrying is the drop in human interaction, atleast in the cities.. even in villages you dont get to see the much famous "gang of old men" gossipping under the temple "aal" tree... there is a change that we are seeing here.. a state when our future is invading the present.. for many this alacrty with which people forget their past is horrifying..

and the days of the "mystery man" who keeps that rose at the stairs for his interest too is long gone.. this is a time when people bluejack and fix it up... its a change...for or good bad?? well debatable..

Anonymous said...

You are quite turning into be a professional writer......from: Zenil, New Jersey
email: zeniliqbal@gmail.com

Anonymous said...

You are quite turning into be a professional writer......from: Zenil, New Jersey
email: zeniliqbal@gmail.com

Shruti said...

WOW!! it reminded me of my summer days...

Home full of children and laughter, hmm missing those days..

TAke care..

Ajith Prasad Balakrishnan said...

Nostalgia..Its heavy ...

Geets said...

Wow, beautiful post

Geets said...

Hi Hope n Love
Thanks for stopping by to write that long and lovely comment. Wow! what a coincidence...amazing! I guess I too sensed some locking of frequencies as I read your posts....Anyway, let's keep in touch. And I love your writing. Go ahead and fulfill your dream of writing a book. You, sure, have one loyal fan here...
This post of yours took me back to the golden days of my childhood. Here's my favourite quote from L.M.Montgomery on the same note:
"Once upon a time we all walked on the golden road. It was a fair highway, through the Land of Lost Delight; shadow and sunshine were blessedly mingled, and every turn and dip revealed a fresh charm and a new loveliness to eager hearts and unspoiled eyes.
On that road we heard the song of morning stars; we drank in fragrances aerial and sweet as a May mist; we were rich in gossamer fancies and iris hopes; our hearts sought and found the boon of dreams; the years waited beyond and they were very fair; life was a rose-lipped comrade with purple flowers dripping from her fingers.
We may long have left the golden road behind, but its memories are the dearest of our eternal possessions; and those who cherish them as such may haply find a pleasure in the pages of this book, whose people are pilgrims on the golden road of youth."
Love & God Bless
Geeta

hope and love said...

thanks everybody..
:))

jac said...

It is lovely...the slow rhythm of words.

Life said...

hey anu :)

you write so deep and true :) gr8 write and mature thoughts doc

LOng LiVe

Take Care
Vikas{V}

pophabhi said...

Just too good, doc. Taking back all of us to those years.