Boogie Woogie dancin shoes...

There are some triggers which bring back memories of your childhood. different people would have different triggers, some would have food, some places which remind them of their childhood; mine is music. and not just any song, the really old english songs which my dad taped during his time on the ship. in a way it was a great thing that he was in merchant navy and roamed the world at a time when there were no cellphones, no emails to let your near and dear ones know that you are safe. ships were slower, loading/unloading took time, and so my dad had plenty of time to visit all the places and stay at a port city for a week or more. so he taped songs on cassettes, almost obsolete these days. and we played it in our car stereo when we were very young, and one of the only families in the locality to have a vehicle. we went on many tours, every year someplace new, and the tapes would play all through the route. we didnt really know much about songs and music then, but some songs got embedded in my system. everytime i listen to them, it brings back a flood of memories of dad driving the car really fast, me and my brother jostling to get between the two front seats of the maruti and cheering him on to overtake any vehicle we could see ahead. and all the time, the tape was playing in the background. we used to play the same tapes when we got up and got ready for school, such classics as harry belafonte, percy sledge, songs like blue bayou, boogie woogie dancing shoes, songs that i once played recently while driving with friends and was dissapointed at their lack of appreciation for them as they made fun of them and said how they sounded like right out of some 1960 movies. maybe...but then like revisiting my childhood sometimes, and whenever i feel the urge, i just pop open my laptop and get transformed into a kid againwith such timeless melodies!

Butterflies!

This boy always took the same path to school every day with his brother alongside; walked past the sweepers in the morning as they raised a plume of dust sweeping away leaves and sand on the graveled road. They didn’t mind, dust and dirt did not matter yet. They walked past mounds of sand that lay on the side of the road; occasionally went through them, which filled their shoes with sand. The boy liked the sinking feeling, like quick sand gulping him down. They walked through the park, despite it being a detour, occasionally riding the swings or watching others riding them; walked on the border path, past the flowers of mind boggling varieties, not knowing what they were called and not bothering to know, children playing Frisbee with their parents, people walking their dogs, their tails wagging in obvious delight. And finally he reached the destination, perhaps a few minutes late, but he didn’t mind, well who would mind getting late to school. Studies did not interest him, except a few subjects. What he did enjoy was the company of friends, the banter, the lunch hour, the mischief with the girl’s hair who sat in front and when the teacher was scribbling on the board, the games session when he ran mindlessly in the playing field, sometimes on his own, and the end of day’s bell which signaled an end of torture with the books. The way back was not the same as the one taken in the morning. It was a long detour that led to a marshy land which had acres of wild flowers and millions of butterflies. It was time for some of them to be petted. The one hour session spent chasing butterflies and then stacking them together in a jar to take home was seen as something of a ritual. Not that it came to anything, once back home, the jar was let open, for them to wander in the house, for mom to scream out in dismay as they flitted in the kitchen and then escaped through open windows.



Then college came, the path became longer, but the boy didn’t mind, he still walked on some days, took the over-crowded bus on others. He saw the sweepers as a nuisance; the dust had him hiding his face behind the handkerchief. It got in his head and on his shirt, which bothered him now; it would spoil his looks, his appearance in class. The mounds of sand were left un-noticed, no longer walked upon or even ventured near. The park was now no longer a detour, yet the path through it went right across, diagonally through the lush green field instead of around it on the path. Time became more important, attendance a word of importance in the daily vocabulary. The college was still though a place to meet friends, to discuss of plans for movies or eat-outs, plans of visiting new places. No longer was the teacher required to look towards the board for mischief to be done, impudence was cool now; being sent out of class a thing to be proud of. No bells rang for end of the day, people made do with their watches to remind the professor it was time for them to go. The walk back was with friends, stopping at the numerous stalls lining beside the road for “chai” or some snacks or for no reason at all, something that became called as “adda”. Fights became more common, mostly for girls as they were in short supply. Money management became very important, as money was also in short supply for the never-ending desire for newer clothes, movies, restaurants and “addas”. Gaming outdoor became less frequent; the new buzzword was LAN gaming with friends, into the dead of the night, eyes sore and rash throats from all the shouting.



Then came office and work, the path now was rarely walked upon, rickshaws were used. Time was of the essence. Same mounds of sand were cursed upon, for obstructing the path of traffic. The parks were left on their own, never visited, viewed from the outer as people went through their early morning jogs and walks. The office was no longer a looked forward to destination; it didn’t contain many friends, just colleagues, with families of their own, discussions always veering on the markets or general work. Here, the day ended when the boss told you that it would, 9 to 5 concept became something of a theory, something that existed on paper, though never to be followed. Here the path back was not lined with any tea stalls or marshes with butterflies, no friends walked alongside sharing their day or the latest gossips. The only companion was your everlasting shadow, never talking back or differing in opinion. Money was now no longer an issue. Gaming outdoor became a forgotten concept, gaming indoor became single player; friends almost never there at the same time.



This boy looks at his life now, he has everything that he could ask for, enough money for unlimited movies; enough games at home for a lifetime of gaming; what he doesn’t have is time, friends close by or those wonderful butterflies that ran amok in his house, spreading color in what has become a colorless life.