Memorabilia

I sit down jotting memorabilia

and all I gather is a mass of meaningless cacophony

ranging from subtle whispers of the young me

to the fiery tempers of the teen-sie me..

from the me who lived in green meadows (read gadepan)

miles away from the nearest supermarkets

sashaying past the rural suburbs, I was proud of then

and one more sweep of a blink takes me

to the time, when chords were all I had

whether be them those of circles taught tirelessly in school

or be them those of my own cackly voice

I remember I got my bikethe last of all

and rejoiced it, basking in its delayed glory,

I remember too, my scooter that is now ogling absent

my computer which then meant nothing more than a wonder

complete with mice and tail swishes

yeah...when web was to be feared, not prized, like now...

associating them with diabolic spiders

whn i lived so faraway from town, streetlamps glowed,

when i left house as well as when i returned

at dawn and dusk...

when sarees meant a drape of of mom's chunri

when rain-bathing did not reek of fears of damaged tresses

to the time when we first were scared of how to lie

when boys asked us why the "partial" teachers took girls to the audi

and Harry Potter was all we could cook

when evening games were not divided on the basis of skirts and shorts,

when the dvent of hotpants and salwars were far into the future

to the time of which I remember nothing, more than white ruled sheets and dubious blue ink...

to the time thats yet to come, premonitored by goru-gaaris (read bullock carts)

and loreal lipsticks...

and mango bags and suzy smiths

which sadly are not just fruits and cartoons...