Before I was born

Ok, so I’m not in the picture. Or am I? How can this be my memory if I’m not in it?

This is a pic of the 2 people who made my world. My Dad n Ma. In an age when things were so much simpler. In the small town where I grew up.

I remember Dad taking me as a toddler on walks to the big maidan behind our house. ‘There’s a crow sitting on a cow’, he’d say, ‘let’s talk to them.’ So I’d babble away to the crow and it would fly off. Rather rude, I’d think. Ever since I’ve preferred cows to crows! My dad was funny and kind and such fun!

Coming home to Ma’s dining table was the best part of a full day in the sun and the mud (and no germs dared come near) - there was always something delicious. I’ve never inherited the cooking gene, by the way - my table smells only of wood.

It was a time when ‘go fly a kite’ really meant that. I learnt to fly kites, shoot marbles, jump walls, play gilli-danda and scrape my knees. And I played with the Bahadur’s kids. There were no malls. There was a main street full of shops and going out there on a Saturday evening was the high point of the week. And eating out? That came once a year – on report card day!

So back to this pic (I wish I really could go back). Oh yes, I am in this pic. I’m in my mom’s tum. Dad bought our first car to bring his precious baby girl home from hospital. And we all drove together down memory lane!