Life in the early 1980s was nothing fancy, it had no glitter whatsoever, but every minute was loaded with excitement. There were dear friends, of whom I don’t have a clue anymore. There are places still standing tall that I long to go back, and embrace.
I miss being dozed off in Granny’s comforting snuggle. I yearn for the evenings when I use to sit on Grandpa’s lap and learn Samskruta slokas. I crave the sweet aroma of incense sticks being lit while watching Ramayana.
I want go back in time, plead Mom to boil and sauté the freshly picked Sorghum seeds with spices; and devour them to my heart’s content. I desire to get hands on my Dad’s National Geography and Reader’s Digest collection and read every single page. I want to go back, sit on the wooden benches and learn English alphabets from Sundaramma Madam.
I’m eager to get hands on my daily dose of 20 paise pocket money from Dwarika ChikAppa and buy my favourite piece of coconut burfee from Khadar’s store. All over again, I want to miss that one particular tender coconut which almost wiped my head off.
Every night, I want be scared of Owl’s hoot. Once again, I want to save my sister Rashmi from being supposedly kidnapped. In these rainy season, I want to curl up, turn into a 2nd standard kid, and run for cover holding a school bag over my head.
If given a chance, I want to be a 7 year old Bharadwaj that everyone loved, and never want to grow up. But alas, childhood comes only once, and that’s the fact of life.