Reminiscence of the Roots
No matter how much we grow up, there is always an association with our roots. An association that may be bleak but still existent. We might not even remember the locality we were born in, or the landmarks of the city, or the faces of people who lived around you. Yet there is some part in us, a seed that was planted but by whom I know not. It could be our parents, transferring into us the evocative sense that came to them when they realized that they were going to enter a new phase in life. Or it could be by God, for a reason known only to him, a cog in the giant scheme of things..
And it evokes memories, largely hazy and sometimes even a figment of our imagination, partially. While on the railway station, I saw the train from Indore to Gwalior. What a pleasant surprise :-) the train from my "janmbhoomi" (place of birth) to "karmbhoomi"(place where I lived the largest chunk of my life). A few years ago, I would have dismissed these thoughts as ones emanating from a weak mind trying to hide in the past. But now as the D-day approaches, I am a lot more philosophical about life.
I lived in a Gwalior for a very short time. Once when I was born, I was too little to remember :-) Next time when I was about 8. For about an year or so. My parents had friendly relations with my neighbours and the landlords. And hence I am still in touch. Also, thanks to Facebook, I also connected to many of my old friends from standard 4th. One of them is almost indispensable to me.
In this modern day world, we are continuously pushing ourselves hard, trying to find logic in anything.
Everything in life has been classified as either "Useful" or "useless". Houses are small, hence no space for old albums. Never for once do they pay a thought to memories. I too, at times, consider myself guilty of being too practical. So its good in a way that I was reminded of something old, from where it all began :)
And it evokes memories, largely hazy and sometimes even a figment of our imagination, partially. While on the railway station, I saw the train from Indore to Gwalior. What a pleasant surprise :-) the train from my "janmbhoomi" (place of birth) to "karmbhoomi"(place where I lived the largest chunk of my life). A few years ago, I would have dismissed these thoughts as ones emanating from a weak mind trying to hide in the past. But now as the D-day approaches, I am a lot more philosophical about life.
I lived in a Gwalior for a very short time. Once when I was born, I was too little to remember :-) Next time when I was about 8. For about an year or so. My parents had friendly relations with my neighbours and the landlords. And hence I am still in touch. Also, thanks to Facebook, I also connected to many of my old friends from standard 4th. One of them is almost indispensable to me.
In this modern day world, we are continuously pushing ourselves hard, trying to find logic in anything.
Everything in life has been classified as either "Useful" or "useless". Houses are small, hence no space for old albums. Never for once do they pay a thought to memories. I too, at times, consider myself guilty of being too practical. So its good in a way that I was reminded of something old, from where it all began :)
THAT, I can tell, is you.
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