At times like this, I just sit down and stare at the world in front of me : Utter Chaos! While everything and everyone around me is going haywire and ballistic, I watch. ( an expression popularly termed as 'Spaced-out')
In an attempt to grasp some twisted sense of the mayhem, my mind begins to tick. The telephone ringing, the fax machine beeping, the rhythmic click-click of the computer key-boards; everything fades away. A sudden urge to strangle workload emerges. Then for a minute or two, I feel numb, while a feeling of nostalgia sweeps over me. Around the corner of my mind a little girl comes running into my head. I clear a little space for that child as she keeps tugging me.
I finally give up and focus my attention on her; her tale begins and we take a little ride down the memory lane. The ironic thing about memories is that while they are yours to keep, but very seldom yours to control. And while the occurrence of a memory is often instigated by a stimulus in the physical environment; this one, from my childhood, is the dearest to my heart and the most vivid. I chose to remember it because it gives me silent solace-the day when I said "Thank-you Mo-m-my"!
Now, was it a Friday or a Saturday? As, a child I have always liked Fridays, since it was the only day in a week to play an extra hour on the playground. Besides, Friday evening also meant no homework and two whole days for the weekend ( a luxury we no longer can afford). Yeah, so, coming back: I am most certain now that it was a Friday afternoon.
The last bell for the day had gone off. There was a buzz of excitement echoing in the alleys. School was over for the week. It was time to run back home and into those comfortable PJs with your favourite cartoon characters printed across, your munchy and deliciously flavored popcorn in the bowl, role playing your cartoon heroes as yo watch them battle the evil forces...
But Alas! Conniving fate had malice planned for me. Just as I was about to board my school van, my urinary bladder gave away. I had to attend to nature’s call or else it would be all “boo-hoo!” and “ shame shame!” for me.
I half jogged, half ran, and half skipped avoiding collisions on my path, all the way to the juniors’ restroom. I must have accidentally bumped into my second grade art & craft teacher only to hear her shriek, “AAARRRGGHH!” on my bewildered puny face. But, truth be told, I was enjoying her pain and grinning from within. She had always been horrible to me, calling my beautiful drawings as etchings of a potato.
However, that is just a passing mention. The real story is what happened next.
Continuing with my misfortune of unaccounted for interruption of my Friday fun time by my sudden bout of nature’s emergency, I went to the restroom finally. HAH! Relief. It’s amazing how nature can curse you and then reward you for the same. Upon completing what I had to, I started frolicking my way back to the school ground, quite confident that my school-van would be waiting for me to make a re-appearance after I had scurried away surreptitiously. Instead, what stood before me was a silent, empty ground; not a leaf was stirring in the atmosphere; over the entire stretch of my tiny eyesight there was sand and only sand. I stood there, I think, for five minutes wondering whether this was one of those sequences in a horror movie where the evil lord tries to take over the world and contemplates on beginning with me.
But as the story progresses, hero comes into action…..Cold winds brushed against the hem of my polka-dotted pink skirt. From across a mile, I heard the lazy creaking of the sea-saw and the swings dangling aimlessly in the air. It is innocence that makes you look for joys in the simplest of things. When I heard the sea-saw and swings clanging with their melodious sounds, I anticipated that the park was calling for me. I ran towards it like a king to his lost kingdom and got into my usual pre-occupied stance, thinking I was the sole ruler and the park was the world left for me to conquer.
I must have been engaged in my strategies for conquering the playground, figuring out the ingenious mechanical technicalities behind the magnificent movements of the various games for almost two hours. To a four year old, even a playground seems magnanimous and imagination can spice up the fun. And then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere I felt like running to my room and wrapping myself up in a cozy blanket and a spongy bed. It was then I felt the need of being home, being with my parents, safe and sound. It was then I knew I felt scared.
I could swear I might have cried to wake up the dead people, yards away! That's when I heard the familiar voice of my Mother call out my name from behind. I turned around to see a panic-stricken face that was now beginning to calm down at the sight of her daughter. I almost sprang on my mom, hugging her tightly, feeling her body’s warmth against mine and said, “Thank you, mummy!”
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