BENGALURU: Yesterday was a chilly day. Grey clouds dabbed the off-white sky, preempting a heavy downpour. It was excellent weather for chaat. A tantalising array of colours, flavours and smells beckoned me to Cubbon Park, and I sought a heart-warming cutlet masala from a pushcart.
The face that plated my order was familiar. I don’t forget faces easily, even if they are brief acquaintances, however, linked to me by a thread of joy. That thread here was chaat, and I asked him, “Did you run a similar gaadi on the other side of M Chinnaswamy Stadium?”
My sudden questioning evoked an emotional glint in his tired eyes, least expecting a long-lost customer to rekindle an old, brief, routine rendezvous. I further reminded: “I worked at a newspaper on MG Road, and would come over for masala puri...” He felt honoured by my fond reminiscence of some seven years ago.
Memories reveal seeds, embedded somewhere deep in our mind, of hope, peace and optimism. They show us reasons for cheer, just that we need to find that moment to take a break, and simply remember.
‘Nostalgia’ reverberates a sentimental longing, a wistful affection for the warmth of our past. While many of us would love to relive through past experiences, there are others who want to undo certain moments. But our past is a wheel in motion that has brought us to the present, which will spin us to the future. Time and change are constant, but our memories within the needles of that clock are absolute, and it’s those which we wish to cherish, relish, and always remember. It’s what makes life interesting, a tick at a time.
Where I lived, studied, played, wept, and won! These are places of pilgrimage, reminding me of where I came from and where I shall go. It’s become a pastime to look for reasons to become nostalgic. It’s the ultimate drift into nothingness, while I still sense my life being eventful. There are numerous nostalgic moments stored as files in my brain, waiting to be accessed and relived. I can remember the last day of the final exam in school, when the bell rang, announcing three months of vacation.
A final toast of ice lollies for the year with the boys, and we dispersed, foreseeing a holiday with family or outdoor play. Life was predictable, but uncomplicated. Innocence of the heart and purity of the mind found glee in a jar of goodies, and that last ring of the bell, even at the end of each day, was the gong of sheer bliss. Simplicity was the order of the day... Ah! How much I miss the Good Ol’ Days!
When I proposed to my first crush, we were very young. The feeling, though fleeting, was inexplicable. I picked up the landline, dialed her home number. When she came on the phone, I beat around the bush for over 10 minutes, before dropping the ‘three words’, and “Phew...!” It’s history now, but exhilarating. I still giggle at my nervousness of that precise moment. Childishness, though a phase of our earliest past, is how we begin learning, and its nostalgia is invaluable.
The toys we played with, books we read, films we watched, friends we made, our first tequila shot, and the bittersweet singsong with our folks, not to forget the festivities or even the first attempt at that hairdo, each second serenades us with fresh, happy episodes that become nostalgic relics to cling to, amid future tumults.
There are umpteen memories of our loved ones, pets, plants et al. We revisit them for the lessons they carry. Life is seldom a bed of roses, and even those unsavoury moments possess advice to avoid tripping again. Those who left us are with us, for our brain has preserved them as memories. Memories pour life into those long gone.
The past-present-future wheel is like a time machine, and memories depict the passage of time. Memories, especially those that shaped us and helped us make it thus far, make life worth it. It was yesterday that led us to today, and onward we go to tomorrow, with the hope that the happy nostalgic notes continue singing in the mind, like Dierks Bentley’s country music ode, “Every Mile a Memory!”
(The writer’s views are personal)