The Treasure Trove

As technology slides itself smartly into every area of our lives, it is essential to pause and rewind. Why? Simply because a rewind mode is helpful to play back some of the finest moments of life.

During one such rewind mode on a Sunday afternoon, I sat reminiscing my childhood. There was never a dull moment despite the lack of technology distractions. The attraction of an afternoon out with friends cheered the spirit no end. How can a computer game even match that joy! Come summer vacations, we were free birds. Thanks to the opportunity that Dad’s army postings created, I distinctly remember my days in Siliguri. As Mums snoozed to the noisy water coolers, we sneaked into the inviting lush green forest adjoining the army cantonment. A row of skinny legs dangled atop seasonal streams as sloppy bread and jam sandwiches were gulped down with regular filter water. The colorful, plastic school bottles remained essential companions. Such was the joy of little things.

“Mom! The new Netflix series is smashing,” the thumping jolts me out of my beautiful reverie.

“Here is the joy of complexity,” I murmur. “Not interested today!” the raised baritone leaves me with the much needed quiet.

Dil Hai chotta sa, Chotti see aasha” the hit song of the 90s reverberates in my head taking me back to the sojourn.

I dig up another distinct memory of walking to school with friends joining in on the way, the tribe growing and friendship strengthening. Nothing changed and nothing stopped. Come sunshine or rain, we walked in tandem with the rivulets. Windswept raindrops slashed the body soaking us with joy and innocence. The drenched socks were squeezed and laid out to dry on the empty desks. Droplets dripping down the pigtails soaked the notebooks and textbooks as joyous faces apologized to teachers. Such was the joy of little things.

“Mom! There are multiple missed calls on your phone! Where are you lost?” the hustle brings me back to the world of screens and sound.

“Ah! It’s Mami!” I make a quick call back to check in. There’s another set of memories of her house neatly tucked into the shelves of my heart. Come winter, we would march to her place from wherever in the country we were. Emerged from the warmth of the fuzzy quilts everyday, we went berserk wanting to be the first ones landing at the village bakery. Peeking at the rising fruit buns with watering mouths was the ultimate bliss on a chilly, foggy December morning. Such was the joy in little things.

“Mom! I’m bored. I’m off for a quick drive!” the sleepy undertone brings me to the present.

“Go on! Don’t bother me” I respond.

The abundance of friends warmed our hearth. We moved place to place with Dad like on a treasure hunt across the length and breadth of the nation. I thus believe that I have a friend in each corner of the country, who too shares the joy of little things!

Saravjot Hansrao

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