The best time of my life

I woke up this afternoon to find my mom sitting by my bedside working on her laptop, as usual. I heard myself asking her, the one best phase of her life. As I reached for my specs, she only said that it was yet to come.

That set me thinking. I wonder why though. I mean her remark definitely didn’t come as a surprise to me. I know my mom has spent all her life working hard.
It’s such a pity. It’s a pity that in all these 39 years of her life, she can’t pick a time of her life and say that that is where she would want to go back. The time she rejoices.

I have my own little desire of returning to my primary school years. It may sound funny but that’s the best time I had. That’s the time when I met Vasudha. That’s the only time I spent with all my cousins. And we didn’t care how some of the elders of the house were not at great terms with each other. And we didn’t care that we would grow up to drift apart. We always thought everything would be alright one day.
I miss those little parties we had (courtesy our grand parents) and the way we celebrated each festival. I remember how every year one of us would become the Santa Clause and we would pack loads of chocolates and toffees in gift-wrapping papers. The Santa was always made a beard prepared by my eldest sister.

That’s the time my grand father used to come to pick me up from my bus stop as he did for the rest of my four cousins. That’s the time when we all used to sit together to have our lunch. And then play for the rest of the day. That’s the time I love. But there was just this little flaw. While all my cousins were in their respective houses by evening, I would only get to see my parents late at night. But I didn’t exactly care about that. They were working hard for me.

That’s the time I used to go to my maternal grand parent’s house with Raman for the vacations. And I miss those fights over mangoes, blankets, side of the bed, games to be played, TV and god knows what not. I miss my grand mother reading Ramayana to us and all those unlimited stories she recited. I miss crying at night to go back to papa. And then those phone calls where I got papa to promise me to come the next morning. And in the morning I would tell him not to.

I miss that time of my life more than anything…

And before I leave, Happy Birthday Ishita!