THE STRANGER IN MY HOME
  • Home
  • Vignettes
    • Encounters
    • Events
    • Experiences
    • Epiphanies
  • Stories
  • Fables
  • Translations
  • Miscellany
  • Now/Then

now  /  then

blogs and blends

Magnificent memories

7/11/2021

0 Comments

 
[Published in The Times of India Plus 23 June 2021]
Happy memories sustain us. An hour of fun, even a few minutes of joy, stay with us for years and become a reassuring touch.

Years ago, I was visiting my second cousin, Di, in another town, and, while we chatted, her little daughter, Mira, six, sat on my lap and absorbed our talk. When I told Di that I had to visit a friend in their town and would leave for a couple of hours but return in time for dinner, little Mira insisted that she would come with me. It was no problem, I thought, she could play with my friend’s children while we talked. Her mother agreed.
Picture
​As I drove toward my friend’s home, a happy Mira sat next to me crooning, occasionally pointing at a fluttering flag or a barking dog on the road. I took a turn and suddenly came across a large expanse of water on the highway. The puddle looked shallow enough and I kept driving, barely reducing my speed. I was wrong: there was quite a lot of water on the road. There was a colossal splash, huge walls of water rose on either side and a massive wave drenched the windscreen. For a second I could see little. I slowed and ran the wiper swiftly.
 
As our car emerged from the giant rinse and water dripped all over, I turned to see if Mira was frightened. Not at all. She was thrilled by the unexpected showering and clapped her hands. She said, “Wow!” Delight was written all over her tiny face. She was clearly thrilled.
 
I had slowed down and now I stopped entirely to talk to Mira. A wild idea had struck me.
 
I asked, “Mira, would you like me to do that again?”
 
Mira laughed and joyfully agreed, “Yes, please!”
 
I turned around, picked up speed and went through the big puddle once again. There was a second gigantic splash, perhaps a trifle bigger, and I could hear Mira laughing and clapping. She was deliriously happy. Once again, I slowed the car to let water slide off the car and to watch Mira’s happy reaction. She had a flushed face and she said, “That was great fun!”
 
Cousin Di kept in touch but I did not get to visit her again. I did not see Mira for a long time, as I went to live abroad.
 
During a visit to India, I attended a family wedding and met Mira after nearly thirty years. She was now married and sat at a table with her husband and two children. I sat next to her and looked at her pleasant round face, glistening in the candlelight. I said how happy I was to see her again and she should tell me all about herself.
 
Her bright eyes lit up as she looked directly at me and said, “Uncle, you remember that puddle you drove me through? Twice! It was such fun!”
 
Thirty years apparently hadn’t dimmed her recollection of the event. Seconds of fun had remained glitters of a merry souvenir.
 
A parallel souvenir comes to mind. My brother Ashis and his wife, Uma, stayed with me for a while and went out often to meet friends. Their daughter, Aditi, then six, stayed happily with me and I tried to think of ways to amuse her. I soon found that what she loved most in my home was the large bathtub. I would fill it with warm water and, once inside, Aditi, would hardly like to budge. Being a bachelor, I had no toys suitable for a child, but I dug out a plastic duck and some colored paper to make paper boats. For hours, the pretty child would float the boats and bathe the duck and simply decline to get out of the water. All the time she spoke to the duck and admonished the boats to stay afloat. At times she even crooned messages that I could not decipher but were possibly meant to encourage her fleet of boats and the solitary duck.
 
Aditi is no longer six – even her daughter has long passed that landmark – but that happy memory, of a child playing, crooning and enjoying herself in my home, remains a vibrant souvenir. It didn’t take much to make her happy besides a tubful of warm water and a watchful uncle who would supply another paper boat when one got thoroughly wet and sank. Years haven’t blurred the dulcet tune of a child’s melody that moved boats, inspired a duck and filled the heart of an unimaginative, inexperienced adult.
 
These are the memories that endure and do not fade. In life a thousand things go wrong, our work encounters a roadblock, our career takes a nosedive, our most trusted relations break, our children act with inhuman indifference, our closest persons hurt us mortally, and all our wounds fester and show no sign of abating. We need something to hold on to, something nobody can take away. Then, to our rescue, come our happy memories. The reminiscences that stay with us, give us sustenance on our darkest days and, on a bright beautiful day, suddenly and miraculously charge us with the joy of living that perhaps should be our title evermore.
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Manish Nandy

    Writer, Speaker, Consultant
    Earlier: Diplomat, Executive


    Archives

    January 2022
    December 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015

    RSS Feed


    Categories

    All

Proudly powered by Weebly
© Manish Nandy 2015  The Stranger in My Home