Dusky twilight, made more fragrant by the smoky whiff of burning le
aves, you could detect the tang of pine needles in the smoke, the evening air is laden with ,the almost imperceptible chill of the fast approaching winter,, the long walks home from school were made even more pleasant by the company of dear friends, our conversations and our silences, albeit few and far between, were full of the compatibility of that age.
In my town, dusk came early, the sun slipping behind and below the encircling hills before the day got adjusted to its bedtime, you could see the faraway hills, dotted with their collection of homes, gradually start to blink and twinkle as each household light came on.
We would try and draw out the last moments before each of us reached home, mine was sort of midways, and every single day, as the gate clanged shut behind me, last jokes and plans for the morrow got shouted over the hedge that lined our boundary, cut in a series of waves by Dad, and I remember always feeling a pang of envy (?) over the last lap of the trip that I never got to participate in.
Home, the last clamor of the insects reverberating in the approaching silence, before they too gave way to the silent night-life. Cozying up together over the evening cups of tea, catching up on each others day, Mum and me being the major contributors to this, Dad was always more the listener, poor,sweet-thing, I guess he never had much to say, when we were around, and he loved to be the listener. The last few days before Durga Puja were filled with anticipation, plans and a sense of joy, at the approaching good times, but I always recall my joy was tempered by the realization that all this would be over even before it started, a matter of just 4 days a year, this somehow made my Holidays less of a joy than they really could have been, and in the process I ended losing out on a lot.
I wish, now, that I had those days back with me, again, to ensure that I lived them properly, giving every moment its due share of joy, its own share of happiness, perhaps the regrets of so many undone things wouldn’t haunt me so, then..
I see now that no one is assured of the number of years that he or she gets, in this world, and I want to be able to spend time with my parents, before it is too late, to try a
nd tell them how much I love spending time with them, because I always assumed that they knew, that they understood, and even if they do, it is always better not to leave such things to chance.
I am planning to go home, in late October, hopefully the finances will be in place by then, and Autumn at home, even for a short while, sounds Heavenly.
aves, you could detect the tang of pine needles in the smoke, the evening air is laden with ,the almost imperceptible chill of the fast approaching winter,, the long walks home from school were made even more pleasant by the company of dear friends, our conversations and our silences, albeit few and far between, were full of the compatibility of that age.In my town, dusk came early, the sun slipping behind and below the encircling hills before the day got adjusted to its bedtime, you could see the faraway hills, dotted with their collection of homes, gradually start to blink and twinkle as each household light came on.
We would try and draw out the last moments before each of us reached home, mine was sort of midways, and every single day, as the gate clanged shut behind me, last jokes and plans for the morrow got shouted over the hedge that lined our boundary, cut in a series of waves by Dad, and I remember always feeling a pang of envy (?) over the last lap of the trip that I never got to participate in.
Home, the last clamor of the insects reverberating in the approaching silence, before they too gave way to the silent night-life. Cozying up together over the evening cups of tea, catching up on each others day, Mum and me being the major contributors to this, Dad was always more the listener, poor,sweet-thing, I guess he never had much to say, when we were around, and he loved to be the listener. The last few days before Durga Puja were filled with anticipation, plans and a sense of joy, at the approaching good times, but I always recall my joy was tempered by the realization that all this would be over even before it started, a matter of just 4 days a year, this somehow made my Holidays less of a joy than they really could have been, and in the process I ended losing out on a lot.
I wish, now, that I had those days back with me, again, to ensure that I lived them properly, giving every moment its due share of joy, its own share of happiness, perhaps the regrets of so many undone things wouldn’t haunt me so, then..
I see now that no one is assured of the number of years that he or she gets, in this world, and I want to be able to spend time with my parents, before it is too late, to try a
nd tell them how much I love spending time with them, because I always assumed that they knew, that they understood, and even if they do, it is always better not to leave such things to chance.I am planning to go home, in late October, hopefully the finances will be in place by then, and Autumn at home, even for a short while, sounds Heavenly.
No comments:
Post a Comment