What triggers a long forgotten memory? A song? A conversation? A forgotten face? A place? All of the above? Any of the above?

Or maybe, just a state of mind!

Dining out with family is a part of growing up. Remember those days when we used to get excited for cassatta ice-cream? It was the highlight of all family lunches and dinners. Did you know that Udupi restos still have that option? I always glanced through it in my adult years, without a thought. There are so many options now. Honey noodles with ice-cream, sizzling brownie (drooooooool), the omniscient and irreplaceable gulab jamun.  Why would I consider a cassatta?
Well, I did the other day. Out of nostalgia. I just wanted to remember why it was so special……
It unlocked a set of locked memories which I had kept aside for a rainy day. School homeworks, uniforms,  monsoon boots, new books. Please don’t ask why all this is related to cassata ice-cream. I have no clue. My subconscious has mysterious ways of storing stuff!
Today, I was dining and heard Baazigar songs played in the resto. Immediate mental transport to my school days. This movie was new when Nanaji passed away. His last rites were done by Maasaji as we don’t have a Mama. So, we lived with Massi for a couple of weeks. My cousin sis and I used to play these songs all day. At night, we used to sit in the balcony and look at stars. We had zilch knowhow of stars and zodiac! But we would imagine shapes and signs in them. Innocent days!

I uprooted myself from my past. I never took root to begin with. A gypsy, nomad, belonged nowhere.
Now, I have some semblance of belonging here. And these old memories drag me back to those innocent days when I didn’t have questions about my source of truth. Afternoons were lazy and days were laid back.
We friends used to roam the neighbourhood, “discovering” new places and things. Gone are those times and the simplicity…

Pangs arise of carefree times lost. All that is left behind is painful as well as sweet. No, I don’t want to go back. I am happy where I am. There is always a part which will remain incomplete. It is, what it is.
Lot of hard work went into reaching this stage. Blood and sweat spent in reaching milestones. What’s the point of looking back. And yet…there’s a little girl who stands on the way somewhere…lost and sad.


She will forever remain alone. She may learn to fend for herself but lost she remains. She might survive the torrents, but battered she stays. She may grow strong and brave big battles, but love will remain elusive. Such is fate, and such is life.

One day, a cassatta ice-cream or a song will pull at her heart strings and she will be shot head-long into remnants of a bygone herself. Forgotten yet existent. All armour will come apart and all shields will shatter.

I have walked through that garden where one Baazigar song was shot. The garden no longer exists. That “ME” no longer exists. That era is gone. What remains is just a faded memory and associations. Hence, passes life. As disjointed and vague as this blog article. It jumps from place to place. It evokes laughs and tears all at the same time. It makes me full of sunshine as well as regrets together. It brings forth sweetness and bitterness all from the same incidents.

Then the day ends and Monday dawns. New week starts and with it, another rigmarole. Same old routine and same old me. Old.
That weekend forgotten under lock-and-key. Cherished for another such crazy roller-coaster.

So long, and thank you for the FISH!