February nostalgia in June

It’s breezy again. Just like February, sans blue skies. The nostalgia returns. But it’s not a particular memory – a place, a person an event. It’s the days gone by. It’s all the people I know; I like and left behind over the years. Its all the places I visited, all the events that make me evolve constantly. All those little chattels of mine, the drawings and comics I made. Mindless hot afternoons spent playing outside till the sun went down. Sometimes fighting over insignificant matters, feeling left out by friends, having to prove being worthy of the group being a newcomer. And later, making someone else prove loyalty.

Leaving places, and secretly crying about it. Letting go best friends in anticipation of new ones, while they do too. Walking about in the mid summer afternoon looh towards cooler terrain, with marvellous clear blue skies and sparkling clouds. The little world that enclosed me there, the hills, the trees, the flowers, everything enticed me. The dark woods on slopes where newfound imaginary monsters and ghosts could reside. The little glass room to sleep in watching stars in summers. In the day time trying to converse through sign language from there to my neighbour in her glass room. Playing games with others in the evening. Autumn times with red chinar tree leaves all over. The nights turning cooler and the days shorter. Sometimes it rained, sometimes there were clouds. Me and my friends would walk back home from dinner at someone’s place. There was a qabaristaan on the way. We seemed to sense ghosts there. We found a garage rolling shutter open slowly before us, and we ran for our lives, the two of us, only to forget that incident once back home.

There I saw the snow fall for the first time! I woke up on a fine November morning to find my dad by my bed breaking the news… how I ran outside to see it! We made the conventional snowmen and the not so conventional snow-women. We broke ice frozen on the water puddles by the sometimes slushy rain. Warming near frozen feet by the bukhari looking at the black coal turn a fiery orange and ultimately, ash white. The snow would render the night with such a surreal luminosity, so subdued and cool, with the added effect of smoke arising out of every house disappearing somewhere in the sky. The times after snowfall were the coldest, when the breeze blew over snow, and even the most brilliant streak of sunlight couldn’t warm me. The snow glared at me instead, and made my eyes hurt. I would walk back from my friend’s house in the middle of a blizzard, making the 5 minute walk seem like eternity. I was alone on the streets, in that restrained evening light. The cold cutting in my eyes, pink chubby cheeks and my nose turned pale. I always wished for ice cream then… school was shut in winters, and studies were the last activity on my mind. I took the camera and my friends out and clicked their pictures sometimes. School started in February, and I was in never in any mood to study. Especially for exams. I never bothered much, though. By the end of term in March, winters receded and spring arrived, with an array of wild flowers that I could never forget. Pretty purple and red poppies, little yellow flowers of so many kinds, hues of orange, blue and pink sprinkled over pretty little meadows, on the roadside, and all along hills and rows of houses. I remember a particular trek up a little hill. I have never experienced such nirvana again. It was so pleasant. So colourful with blue skies, wildflowers, hues and shades of green and blues, and the clear morning air.

I remember mulberries and my trial at making a mulberry cake. It turned out a stunning grey, and tasted wonderful. We would go plucking cherries from a cherry tree, but had to walk uphill to the other colony for that. But we had to have the sweet-sour cherries…

Summers arrived with rain and storms. I can vividly remember a huge tree falling just a few feet away from where I was. I was riding my bicycle. I didn’t panic… I was just awed by the sight of the fallen tree, and my friend pulled me away from there, making me leave by dear bicycle there. We went to a nearby shopping complex, and waited for the storm to pass by in the courtyard. I retrieved my bicycle in a few minutes after the storm passed … or was it an eternity…? I can’t seem to remember. I told my mother in a matter of fact way about it, and she seemed to think I was far away from the tree. That was soon forgotten. I realise now, that things would have been very different had I not been so lucky that day.

Riding the cycle was a favourite pastime. On empty roads where no one would see me, I would stand on the pedals and leave my hand off the handle and just go… the slopes helped. I have had my share of accidents, but what’s life without them. I still have injury marks on me as a reminder of all the amusing things I’ve done. Two birthdays I celebrated there were the best. My birthday arrives during the summer vacations, so my friends were always missing. But here, summer vacations were 10 days in july. So all my friends were there for my birthday. It rained every time, and one being a leap year, it arrived on a Saturday both the times! I slipped in water playing kho kho at school on both occasions. I accompanied my dad for walks in the morning sometimes. He was so brisk that I had to run to catch up with him. Uphill!

By the end of that summer, I had started to paint watercolour landscapes. I still have one in my grandparents room. Framed and displayed proudly… That summer was really upbeat, but slow. It was a summer of contemplation, and a noticeable change in me. It was inevitable I think.

And then the next autumn, it was time for me to leave again. I set out to all the places I loved, and said goodbye. I was sure I wasn’t going to return for a few years. And now, its been 12 years since I left. That’s half my life… And I look back at all that. The places I loved, all those little chattels of mine, the paintings I made. Mindless lonely walks amidst blizzards, loving the surreal night light, snow... Sometimes fighting over insignificant matters, feeling left out by friends, having to prove being worthy of the group being a newcomer. And later, making someone else prove loyalty.

Leaving the places, and secretly crying about it. Letting go best friends in anticipation of new ones, while they do too. Walking about in the cool September air with blue skies, sparkling clouds and brilliant greens, towards an uncertainty beyond comprehension of my little mind. I wasn’t sure of what to expect from he new places. My world had just grown bigger, and these little things were too little.

And things were never the same again.