Remember Me?

Do you remember me?

Not that much about me is so striking -
That it would stay with you
Long after we –
Parted ways.
Or just drifted apart.
Or never really clicked.
Or inevitably changed paths.
Or simply walked our own ways.

But still,
do you remember anything about me?
And what IS it?

Is it my plain face
That lights up occasionally
At the sight of a loved one?

Is it that song that I once recited?
That they said ‘sounds good’ –
But I know, not good enough !

Or do you remember my messy curls –
That just want to be –
Be themselves ?

Or maybe you remember my tired eyes –
That speak of old stories,
That never got a chance
to be told.

Or do you remember me as –
The all-knowing class kid
Whose hand shoot up
At every question?

Or do I remind you of –
A lost friend
Who still has a place
In your loaded heart !

Do you remember me
For our long long phone calls
And our long long conversations
That never really meant anything.
Or did they?

Or is it your phone calls –
That were never answered?
Coz trust me I do that a lot!
Guilty as charged!
And when I called back,
It was too late by then..

Ah! So you remember me
For that one time I stood by you –
In my little way.
But did it mean anything to you ?

Or when I spoke up,
When no one really cared.
But I spoke up anyway ?

Or maybe when the world was not
Such a happy place for you
And I came, and made it tolerable?

Is it the time when it was just
The two of us! (or maybe three!)
And we had our own world
And did not care
Until the reality did really strike !

Or do you remember me of
As a confidant
Who held your deepest secret
And took it to the grave?

Or maybe the one
Who wasn’t there
When you needed the most?

Do you remember me as
The soft-spoken girl,
Who laughed a little,
And sometimes - a lot ?

Or that one person
Who looked completely
Out-of-place-
Looking out for the right place?

Do you remember me at all?

And am I anything close-
To what you remember me as?
Or a little bit of all?
Or nothing.

Twirl around you.

Oh this fragile, delicate thread –

That binds us, wraps us –

Into our little place.

You and me.

And we both know better than the rest –

The toil and pain and blood and sweat

That went into its making.

And how you crossed the seven seas

To reach me,

Even though we physically stood a few steps apart.

And when you finally arrived,

And called my name,

How I came gushing,

And twirled around you –

Like a radiant, blossoming vine –

That had been waiting for its anchor since ages.

And it felt like the safest place on earth –

And sometimes,

It felt like the entire earth shrunk

To this space between us.

And it would sound difficult to believe now,

But trust me, this space had a life of its own –

And it breathed.

Oh, how this space breathed !

Through all these years,

I’d admit, things did change.

I can’t point out however,

When, how, why.

But things did change,

And so did you and I.

And time had its tricky ways

Of eluding us of each other.

And that space between us,

That once breathed,

Has been expanding ever since;

That space that once thumped and throbbed,

Now sends faint, obscure notes.

Yet, in my deepest hearts, I know –

You’d still cross the seven seas for me.

But crossing those last few steps,

Feel like a distant dream.

Oh this fragile, delicate thread –

That binds us, wraps us –

I can see it struggling

To survive and thrive.

And as these mountains between us

Keep growing every day,

You see me leaving –

I can’t say where I am going today.

But as my feet carry me

Farther away from you –

The heart of that space between us –

That heart wishes deeply,

Call my name one more time,

And I promise I’ll come gushing again,

And twirl around you.

Dear Amma

So, it was just one of those long tiring days at work. And I decided to do exactly what most of us do after a tiring day. I sat back in the comfort of my bed, and began scrolling through unnecessary, meaningless and over-informative social networking feeds! Ah were you thinking I would rest?! Hey who does that in today’s “always-online” world!

Anyway, so as I was swimming in this sea of random posts, I came across this beautiful, well-meaning video advertisement. It showed a lady’s retirement party and how she was gifted a guitar- so she could take up her long-lost hobby. It was tagged with #MomBeAGirlAgain.

I found it super-cool – partly because I like the whole idea of people connecting with their old hobbies. But mostly because I have seen how moms transform into an entirely new person; slowly and gradually ofcourse. And this new person has nothing to do with their old selves. Their likes, their interests, their schedules, even their faces, their hands ! They are just not the same.

No, I don’t mean to take away from what our dads do for us. They evolve too. Maybe not in the same way, but they do. But let’s keep that for another day.

I do not remember ever seeing my mom overly enthusiastic about music. But she has studied “tabla” for close to eight years ! You need to be kidding me to be able to study that long without self-driven passion. She tells us she even planned to take it up professionally but things did not work the way they were expected to. So she took up another job – that had nothing to do with music – and that’s it about it. She does play it sometimes even now, but she is no more passionate about it. Or so she tells us. And herself.

There are so many other things that my mom or dad were passionate about long back, and then we arrived, and we ate up all their time, and they lost touch with their passion, and now when they have the time for it, they can’t find the will for it. Well, that’s my personal theory and it makes me feel I have played a major part in this evolution.

Ideally, all moms; or for that sake – parents; should try to keep in touch with their selves and the things they love. I know it is so so so much easier said than done. As kids, we want our parents to be completely involved with us and we fight for their undivided attention. But as we grow up, I don’t think anything will make us happier than knowing that you love a thing dearly and your world is not just confined to ours.

So, here I am, trying to convince my mom to take up her music again. We have tried to convince her in person, and it doesn't seem to work. So here is another try.

Dear Amma, 

It will give us immense pleasure to see you passionate about what was once your passion. It will be difficult at first, and there will be a million reasons to stop trying. But once you get connected to it again, I am sure you will a find a new you. And it will have something in common with the old you – the girly you. 

Dear mum, please take up your music again. 

Dear mum, please give it a chance again. 

Dear mum, please be that girl again.

P.S. Here is a link to the video that triggered this writing.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_TKm-r4CDE

#MomBeAGirlAgain