Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Mangoes, memories, magic!

I just had a sweet, juicy mango dear blog and how I relished it! There is something about mangoes that touches my heart, you know. Because mangoes were not there all the time. They were special, reserved only for summers and always served with a whole lot of love.





Like everyone else, I love mangoes but every time I have the first of the season, I am reminded of my school summer vacations. The long, hot summer months, a good part of which I used to spend in Roorkee, my grandparents place. I remember how my Daddy Ji, used to get cartons full of mangoes so that I could have as many as I wanted. I remember how, my Badi mummy would make a lachha parantha which also I used to have with a mango and if there was some boredom during the day, I would leisurely sip on Frooti kept in the fridge. I never thought of that mango eating as anything extraordinary or anything that I would miss a few years later. It was as normal as it could get. Anyway, today during lunch my colleagues and I started discussing Mata ki Chowki, which is quite common in the northern part of the country and how as a little girl, I was made to dress up like a Mata, and bless everyone who had come with my tiny hands. To give full authenticity to the setting, I would also mount a lion, usually some uncle or cousin who would be dressed in a lion attire and take rounds of the pandal. I mean honestly, how cool was that. I never thought that I will ever think or even vaguely remember that but here I am, blogging about it, creating a web memory of sorts.

Today, like any other ordinary day, I woke up, got dressed, went to work and came back to have a mango. May be today will also become extraordinary some decades later. You know, I will think about how I used to look, what I used to wear, how I used to write, what songs played in my head and I will again laugh and warm my heart by recreating what was here today, in this moment, in this day.

Aren't all of us dear blog, just made up of memories and experiences and feelings and songs and fragrances and food. Isn't just everything else too trivial too bother, too small to be important, too irrelevant to be ever relevant. I don't know, may be it is, may be it isn't, may be I will know when the time is right, or may be I know it now, just while I write this. 

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