Lavender memories..

Memories... Some vividly alive, some faded. Some slipping away, replaced by newer ones. Some still holding on, fighting against time, awaiting their passage into oblivion, to be lost forever. Moments captured in a frame, staring back at us, as if mocking at the attempt. So many stories, lived, breathed, forgotten...Some in shades of gray, some in color... Each enclosing a different tale.

अयुश्याचा दिवा......

एका चोठ्याश्या गवत नदी पलिकडे एक जुने मंदिर. गावातल्या एका मुलीचा रोजनियम कि संध्याकाळी पेटविलेला दिवा हातात घेऊन नदिपार करून तो मंदिरात ठेवणे। माहिती नाही आयुश्याची किती वर्षे प्राणा पलीकडे जप्लेला। एक विचित्र संध्याकाळ। दुपारी पासूनच ढ़ग दाटून आलेले। जोराचा वारा सुटलेला। झाडाचे पान फान्दीवर थाम्बेल तर शपथ। विजांचा नाच चाल्लेला। नदिने तर समुद्राचे रौद्र रुप धारण केलेले। एकुणच सारे काही सैरभीर। बिचारी मुलगी गोंधळून जाते । पण पेटविलेला दिवा नदिपार मंदिरापर्यंत कसा घेऊन जायचा? मध्येच दिवा शांत झाला तर प्राणच संपले सारे। याच एका जिद्दीने प्रयत्नांची पराकाष्ठा करत मुलगी नदी पार करायला सुरुवात करते। निसर्गाला अजुनच चेव चढ़तो। नादीत्ल्या लाटांचे तुषार दिव्याच्या ज्योतीशी स्पर्धा करायला लागतात। बेफान वारा झाक्लेल्या हाताच्या पोकळीतून आत शिराय्ला बघ्तो। सगळेच शत्रू बनून समोर ठक्तात। पण जिद्द मात्र मोठी। मदिरात दिवा ठेव्ण्याची। शेवटी उम्बर्ठा ओलांडून आत येते। "जिंकलो एक्दाचे। किती अडचणी पार करून 'मी' हां दिवा इथ्वर आणला। चला माझ्या कर्तुत्वाचा आनंद व्यक्त करुयात"। एक इव्लासा सुस्कारा.........................................दिवा शान्त होतो !
एक, फक्त एक मोहाचा क्षण आणि सर्व काही सम्पून जाते। त्या मोहाच्या क्षणावर विजय मिळ्वून जर आपण पुढे गेलो तर ह्याही पेक्षा सुन्दर , आश्वासित आणि अमर्याद आयुष्य आपण उपभोगु शकतो। आवश्यकता आहे ती त्या मोहाच्या क्षणाला बळी ना पडण्याची।

अन्यथा शिल्लक राहील फक्त भोगणे
---Courtesy : A Long Lost Friend

Once upon a time...

I remember when i was 5 years old, i had this habit of asking my dad to tell me a story every night before i went to sleep. I would refuse to go to sleep, until i had my daily dose of a bed time story. And funnily enough, my dad used to recite me the same story every night. The story about the monkey and the crocodile. How they were friends and how the crocodile one day decided to decieve the monkey and eat it but was outwitted by the monkey. Though the story was the same, he had this magical gift of spinning a beautiful yarn around it to make it interesting every time i heard it. I also have a faint memory of one night, when i was throwing up my usual tantrums, complaining to him how he fooled me with the same story every night and told him that i wanted to hear a different story. He gently patted me on my forehead, moved the strand of hair from my face that was tickling me and in his usual soothing voice, said, "Once upon a time, in a jungle far away, there lived a monkey". And i forgot all i had wanted. I once again drifted in to the magical world he had created for me and eventually dozed off. With time as i have grown older, there are no more bed time stories. The mystical land of stories seems to have been lost or maybe i have drifted too far from it. But the memories have stayed with me. And so has this one story which never failed to enchant me with its simplicity !

A chilling encounter

It is a chilly day. The kinds when you want to head for the smallest patch of sunshine to gather as much warmth as you can. The wind blows intermittently with avid gusto sending shivers down my spine. I try to walk fast, at the same time trying to avoid the gush of the wind which seems to enter from the tiniest of the openings of my overcoat. There arent many people on the road. It isnt the pleasantest of days for anybody to be out. I long to get home, to the warmth of the heater. But home is still a long way to go. The stretch of road seems unending. And through the corner of my eye, i see him. He is walking on the other side of the road. He has some shade of orange on him which i catch a glimpse of. I cant say or be sure what it is. But i am not interested in that. I see him match his pace with mine. Occasionally when i glance to the side he is walking on, i can see his eyes fixed on me. I try to walk faster. And so does he. An unknown fear grips me, i panic and start to look for an easy exit on to the highway. But where do i go, all the roads are the same. And he seems to be watching my every step.I need to cross over to the side where he is walking and then i need to turn left where the road bends. But this mere act is now filling me with dread. But i have to do it. I cross over. He waits till i cross over and then resumes walking behind me. I am panic stricken now, for i can feel him closing in on me. And then....he stops right ahead, facing me and says.."Would you care for a flower, miss? Its two a Pound." And then he smiles and hands me two bright orange, fresh flowers. And i see what that something orange was, which had caught my eye.. I grab the flowers from him, fumble for a pound in my overcoat, hand it over to him smilingly and walk away....

A fond memory

I remember that as a child, i loved puppies. Maybe i still do. But i am also scared of them. But back then, in my childhood that is, i had an imaginary puppy. This sweet, cute little dog was my best friend then. It had no name, or rather i preferred to call it by a new name everyday and it would respond as diligently as ever, as if it knew its name for the day, even before i had thought of it. Somedays it was as white as a fluffy cloud, somedays it was that light shade of brown glistening in the sun and somedays it was as black as the shining night. It could look like anything that i wanted it to, but it was the sweetest thing on earth for me. I also remember running around the neighbourhood, climbing trees and racing against it. Though now when i actually think about it, i am sure that the onlookers must have found it very wierd. To them it would have appeared as a little girl running around all alone, racing against herself, talking aloud. But even if they did find it wierd, they never let that out, maybe they just didnt want to spoil the little fun i was having. I would even play the traditional game "teacher teacher" as it was called in the bygone days. The puppy was my student. I wonder if little girls still play this game? Anyways, i dont know if all this "imaginary friend" thing is way too wierd, but i really care two hoots even if it is. To me, it has been a fond memory which brings a little smile on my face whenever i think of it. And thats all that matters. I dont know what triggered this memory , but i am thankful to whatever it was. It has made my day :-)