
Meandering through memory lanes
hobbled to a place where my childhood reigned
winded roads and crooked streets
a park across and a store at a few feet – my home
My ancestral home —
Where everything was well placed and everyone had a job
a veranda where grandfather situated himself on his rocking chair
as a patron and a guard of his realm
a courtyard where lots of cooking and conversations took place
whispers laughter and secrets shared
terrace for us children to sneak to and have fun
grandmother calling out to stop the mischief by midnight sun
In the midst of this—
Diwali celebrated with zeal and paraphernalia
family’s heavy chest opened for memorabilia
lanterns selected with care
rangoli decorated with flair
endless trays of delicacies devoured
aarti and firecrackers packed in few hours
If I could turn back wheel —
go from real to reel
I would savor all those lasts, that last Diwali, that last trip, even that last match of cricket
hold on to cousins’ last huddle and laugh a little harder
wallow in grandmother’s comforting soul and smile at grandfather’s last roar
But I fear, now —
These scrawls and images etched in my memory
which kindle copious and fond reverie
can soon fade away
leaving only remnants of those days.
***********
I owe this post to ideas generated from many different sources.
- Deepika’s post, a great reminder of our childhood https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/66905190/posts/5978
- V.J. writing challenge, the word was KINDLE https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/107230244/posts/10366
- Devereaux Frazier’s Tuesday Challenge, the word was Winded Child https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/130149259/posts/12039
- Lastly, being close to the holiday of Diwali.
What a portrait of a life lived! Your description transported me right there. “…from real to reel” – great line.
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Thanks a lot!! 🙏💕
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Most welcome!
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Nostalgic imagery well expressed Pallavi ❤ !
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Thank you Radhika! 🙏❤️
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I felt like I was there.
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A great compliment! Thank you.
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Simply wondrous, how well your artistry paints the pictures, brava. For All, a twig of my Diwali poetree 🙂
Even Shadow Speaks of Light
Earthen formed, as clay, my bodhi,
Deepa, with inner wick always lite,
Oli, light of thee light, sits.
Thanx for all you do; have a great eve’ 🙂 reality
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What beautiful lines…even shadow speaks of light. 👏🏻👏🏻
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Gracious of you, thanx 🙂 reality
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Diwali is still there. As are all the Diwalis you’ve celebrated. Maybe you weren’t home for the last few, but you will. One day. All those moments are set in time. And stay still… Hmm. How can I express that? I have a photo of my great-grandmother Wilhelmine de Goutière, somewhere on a indigo plantation. The year is 1860. She is ten. A studio photo with her sister. The camera caught this moment in time. Frozen for eternity… All moments are indeed frozen in eternity and memory…
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Beautifully written, and paints a picture of a lovely childhood.
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Thank you so much, Pene! So nice to see you here again. Missed you my friend. 😊
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Same here, I was busy at the end of the year and missed some of your writing.
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