SEVENTY TWO SUN’S AGO
Seventy two years under the sun. What was the sun like that many years ago? Your mother, the cradle that held you for the first time? I would like to know how you cried taking in the first breaths of life. Did you know that your journey had begun? Did your mother hold you close studying your tiny face? Your father must have been a proud man that day. Were there celebrations? No photographs, just memories for you.
When did you take your first tiny step, steading yourself and walking across the room? You fell and cried, must be. Grand ma must have scooped you up into her arms or it could have been your father. The memories in you must be lying like pressed leaves in a book.
You were three and am happy that you were too small to realise that you had lost your father. Grand ma, you and your sisters stayed on in her maternal home. Did you miss your father and when you saw your friends had a man who took care of the family? Or is it just that you accepted it all much like you do so many things even today?
You grew up in the lap of nature. Trees would give you fruits and also shelter when you hid from your mother chasing you with a stick. The river was your companion. You plunged into it to escape heat or just splash around in delightful abundance. A boat ride in the evenings would take you to the village fair. Were there balloons?
What was it like to be told that a line has been drawn on the ground, through people’s hearts – partition of a nation? That it was time to pack up and leave the home you grew up in? Were there tears as you left some of your belongings and friends? Did you understand why a happy photograph was being torn through the middle? Did you look back once to bid goodbye to the river or the mango tree? Your marbles, did you give them to your friend who looked through tears as you left?
A new beginning. What was it like to move to a new country, call a new place your home? How long did it take you to make friends again? Was it when you missed your past that you took the football to the nearby field? Was it the reason for you to hit the ball so hard? Did you get amazed that two strange looking gentleman were watching you hit the ball that hard?
Football, cricket and sports in general became your existence. Yellowed pages of news papers still talk of your glory. Many still remember the fire in you. You were the first to take ten wickets in a first class cricket match. Devastating good looks and raw power of a tiger made you a lethal combination!
A maiden came by, lost her heart, left her palace and decided to make a life with you. You got married. Soon came along a little girl. Toddling much like you did perhaps. Life flowed on and you went with the tide. Did you remember the river of your childhood days? You now had a home of your own with a tiny garden. Your mother, wife and daughter completed the picture for you.
Forties you dealt with deftly, going through the motions of living and realising that it was curtains for your sports career. I remember that last football match when you scored a goal from nearly the half line. A beautiful end to a glorious innings on green grass.
Retirement you faced with pride. A long journey well completed. You went abroad and also to the land that was once yours. We saw you running like the little boy. You visited your school, the place where your home used to be, the river that recognised you inspite of all the grey hair. What was it like to breathe again the air that was once yours?
You move on. Not one to get caught in emotions or get into a swirling pool of depression. Maybe the river taught you this early that life is all about flowing on. It could be a flat terrain or a mighty drop but just keep swimming on.
On your way to seventy two, you held so many hands, steadied so many rocking lives. I love the friendly yelps that greet you in the mornings. All stray dogs gather for their morning breakfast and you their obedient waiter! The plants too if they could would do the same as you water them unfailingly every morning.
It is that morning once again, the same sun, a slight chill in the November air. Only seventy two years have gone by. It makes me happy to stretch out my heart and wish you a very Happy Birthday.
He is special. He is our umbrella. He is my father.
When did you take your first tiny step, steading yourself and walking across the room? You fell and cried, must be. Grand ma must have scooped you up into her arms or it could have been your father. The memories in you must be lying like pressed leaves in a book.
You were three and am happy that you were too small to realise that you had lost your father. Grand ma, you and your sisters stayed on in her maternal home. Did you miss your father and when you saw your friends had a man who took care of the family? Or is it just that you accepted it all much like you do so many things even today?
You grew up in the lap of nature. Trees would give you fruits and also shelter when you hid from your mother chasing you with a stick. The river was your companion. You plunged into it to escape heat or just splash around in delightful abundance. A boat ride in the evenings would take you to the village fair. Were there balloons?
What was it like to be told that a line has been drawn on the ground, through people’s hearts – partition of a nation? That it was time to pack up and leave the home you grew up in? Were there tears as you left some of your belongings and friends? Did you understand why a happy photograph was being torn through the middle? Did you look back once to bid goodbye to the river or the mango tree? Your marbles, did you give them to your friend who looked through tears as you left?
A new beginning. What was it like to move to a new country, call a new place your home? How long did it take you to make friends again? Was it when you missed your past that you took the football to the nearby field? Was it the reason for you to hit the ball so hard? Did you get amazed that two strange looking gentleman were watching you hit the ball that hard?
Football, cricket and sports in general became your existence. Yellowed pages of news papers still talk of your glory. Many still remember the fire in you. You were the first to take ten wickets in a first class cricket match. Devastating good looks and raw power of a tiger made you a lethal combination!
A maiden came by, lost her heart, left her palace and decided to make a life with you. You got married. Soon came along a little girl. Toddling much like you did perhaps. Life flowed on and you went with the tide. Did you remember the river of your childhood days? You now had a home of your own with a tiny garden. Your mother, wife and daughter completed the picture for you.
Forties you dealt with deftly, going through the motions of living and realising that it was curtains for your sports career. I remember that last football match when you scored a goal from nearly the half line. A beautiful end to a glorious innings on green grass.
Retirement you faced with pride. A long journey well completed. You went abroad and also to the land that was once yours. We saw you running like the little boy. You visited your school, the place where your home used to be, the river that recognised you inspite of all the grey hair. What was it like to breathe again the air that was once yours?
You move on. Not one to get caught in emotions or get into a swirling pool of depression. Maybe the river taught you this early that life is all about flowing on. It could be a flat terrain or a mighty drop but just keep swimming on.
On your way to seventy two, you held so many hands, steadied so many rocking lives. I love the friendly yelps that greet you in the mornings. All stray dogs gather for their morning breakfast and you their obedient waiter! The plants too if they could would do the same as you water them unfailingly every morning.
It is that morning once again, the same sun, a slight chill in the November air. Only seventy two years have gone by. It makes me happy to stretch out my heart and wish you a very Happy Birthday.
He is special. He is our umbrella. He is my father.
posted by Autumn Leaf | 10:24 AM
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