Down Memory Lane…

09Oct06

This day of my travel episode, for reasons of my own, I subjected myself to a joy and some pains from my past. First, I met a school friend after 12 years. And then went to the see the apartment where I lived 16 years ago (between 1991-93), when Chennai was my home.


The ever-beautiful Mount Road

I alighted at the DMS bus stop on Mount Road. This was the very stop I used to board bus to school. The subway I had used to cross the road was right where it was, flanking the beautiful Mount Road. Since those days I always admired this road – ever beautiful and great to drive on.

Minutes later I was inside the Post and Telegraph Quarters. My apartment, as I remembered, was T4. The moment I stepped into the quarters, I went in a tizzy. The quarters had changed beyond any quick recognition. The alphabetical markings over the apartment were not there anymore. I remembered it to be far more tidy and good looking. A few paces of walk later, I enquired about T-block and walked straight up to – T4.


The back side of Apartment T4

An overwhelming gush of emotions rushed through my nerves at the instant of seeing the house. My memory never seemed clearer. The days when I walked around in half-trousers around the house, the tiny verandah where I slept at nights of power outage, my dad and mom leading me into the house holding my tiny hand, my pre-teen (I was 11-12 then) antics. The house suddenly seemed to spring up to life, a sudden bustle of activity, a weird sound of my mom yelling me to come in for dinner, or my dad giving me a piece of his mind for not doing my Math homework properly.

It was also this very house, which would bring the biggest ever change to my life. It gave me my first ever feel of death – that of my dad. Murky images from the past, of his walking around the house, floated like thin white clouds under a clear blue sky. I walked to the back of the house, to the window from where he used to show me ta-ta as I walked out of the house to school every morning. There was a tear just waiting to drip through the heart. Looks like time doesn’t heal everything. It just suppresses a few things in the guise of healing. And someday it all comes roaring up in front of you and confronts you right up your face. That’s just what seemed to be happening with me.


St. Johns, Mandaveli

I came around the house to see a rusted electric box with a bunch of useless weed all around. It was in those days, when three drawn lines on this box served as stumps for our cricketing interludes. Just beyond the box used to be a large ground that was our home for all sorts of games – predominantly cricket. Today the ground is in a complete mess, with an awkward fencing that is being used for drying wet clothes. I remembered how I used to bruise my knees umpteen times falling all over with my large battalion of friends, in that very ground.

With a rather heavy heart I hopped on the bike and drove off to the school where I studied – St. Johns. This one was the other way round – absolutely nothing had changed. The school, the color, the tree lined road, the 5 stories, the colored flags fluttering on the terrace – none of it had changed. Being a Sunday, there was nobody that I could meet in the school. So after a few memory-flashbacks, I moved on to The Marina.


Like the waves receding over my feet…

Time has taken me from my T4 apartment through corridors of death, sorrow, and later success and happiness to where I am today. But there is one thing Time would never change – The Sea, and the way the sight of sea saturates me with a fierce introspection into my mind and my past and myself. The rumbling sound of the waves dashing relentlessly onto the sand seemed more like my state of mind at that moment – memories dashing relentlessly all over.

It was like the choppy waves receding over my feet carrying the sand underneath, when I tried hard to carry myself over from the wild gush of emotions which still seemed glued to apartment T4. The sea was restless on the shore with its waves dashing against the sand and against each other in their eternal race to the shore and dissolving bits of sand in the process, but there was also the serene calm visible far down over the orange horizon. Probably much like life and death itself. Restless on the edges and always on the race for some elusive gift, but settling down to a sedate rhythm as we move deeper into it.

This was a day when there was the nostalgia of past memories, but also a gripping pain that accompanied like the dark shadow that follows wherever you go. But ironically, it is this very shadow that seems to be my self-preserved emotional shelter offering a refuge whenever I’m in need of one.

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19 Responses to “Down Memory Lane…”

  1. Hang in there, re. This, too, shall pass.
    Oh, and you have nice feet :)

  2. Woo hoo! Thanks to me! :p

  3. very nice post Kishore. I know how painful it must have been to be in the place where you spent so many moments with your dear father and where you saw him last.But I am sure it was worth it and may be you relived some of those moments with him in the same setting.

  4. 4 Adora Belle

    :-)……. It’s funny how certain smells, familiar alleyways, all the different tastes…can impact our emotions…and flood our thoughts with memories of the things that were once……………yeah. But, I guess the moment that we realize….that everything has a purpose…everything has a way of working and sorting itself out…Is a moment that you realize…all the happiness and good times…all the heartache and sadness…the little stories…everything that someone is…and could possibly become.

  5. 5 Adora Belle

    Oops…sorry…LOL! Anycrap. Those thoughts………..They form us into what we’re meant to be. Hmmm…That’s enough of deep thinking…I agree with Prat…”Nice Feet.” lol

  6. 6 Sangeeta

    A very sweet nostalgic post, it’s nice of you to share such precious memories here with us.

    *hug*

    oh and feet .. hmmmm

  7. 7 Kishore

    Prat,
    Thanks! It shall pass.. :)

    Phoenix,
    You bet!

    Usha,
    Thanks. I’m sure glad the day happened the way it did.

    Adora,
    Deep thinking.. Hmm. But I do agree!

    San,
    Thanks. I needed that.. :)

  8. O yes, Kishore, nothing like going back in time… It brings back good and bad memories. The bad one usually don’t hurt so much — I guess — since time has played its healing role. At the end of it all, we feel so refreshed, is it not?

  9. 9 shub

    *hugs*

  10. Looks like time doesnt heal everything…

    So profound. I am with you da… time cannot heal everything.

  11. uh! What the heck wrong with the editor… I just messed up three times to comment ….eeeeeeeeeeeeeee

  12. 12 Kishore

    Shub,
    Thanks.. :)

    Mahen,
    Thanks.. And corrected 2 of them…

  13. 13 Adora Belle

    Are you still going to the US for Ms. Victoria Secret, ki? :) lol

  14. 14 Kishore

    Adora,
    Yep! I’m still going to US for Ms. Victoria Secret. :)

  15. 15 Adora Belle

    Cool. I hope you have fun. Call me…or something…so we can meet up…when I’m down for my winter break! OH! Midterms are next week…Wish me luck! :)))

  16. Time heals,it gives us the strength to move forward,but its all hidden in the heart,we call them memories,some hurt and a few make us smile.
    I did hear everything you said on phone,but still while reading it i knew i had tears in my eyes. That picture of your feet is a goodone:) can you send that to me plzzzz;p

  17. 17 Adora Belle

    Happy Friday the 13th!

  18. 18 Kishore

    Alapana,
    :)

    Adora,
    La spectacale 13 de friday…

  19. Sorry to hear about your father. I guess you never quite get over some things.

    I studied at St. Johns, Mandeveli too. :) till 5th Std.


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