It happened last weekend.
The sky was grey or rather blackish grey. I was out in a field playing football. We were only five or six , the sky scared most people. I heard two old men discussing. One of them said , ” Its Nor’wester, lets go home.”
A warm wind was blowing. Suddenly the sky barked. A gust of cold wind struck us. It was rich in moisture and we could feel it as it cooled our skin. The wind carried the enthusiastic smell of the soil, when it gets wet by the first rains of the season. I felt even more lively and urged my friends to keep playing. The wind grew stronger. The Nor’wester indeed! Now sand was blowing all around and we had to keep our eyes half open only. One of my friends became too excited and started jumping and dancing and in the next moment we all were doing the same. The strong wind made the trees dance along with us. The air was filled with sound of rustling and breaking of branches. The wind could be heard singing as it darted into the narrow spaces between the houses that surrounded the field.
I was enjoying the situation when suddenly those bending of trees , that sound of rustling of leaves and the roar of the ghostly storm stimulated a strange feeling and took me away to somewhere…… to some place long forgotten…
Krishnagar. When I was in lower kindergarten we used to stay in Krishnagar. As those old memories flooded inside me I was taken away to those days of our three-year stay at Krishnagar, a place of myths and magicians, kings and bishops. I remember the palace of the Raja Krishna Chandra Roy which has now become a heritage. I remember the big lake which the locals called , “Rajar Dighi”.
My father used to take me to school on our bike. We had to cross the “Rajar Dighi”. During winter the whole area would be covered with dense white fog like snow dust and when one looked for some time one could get fading glimpses of swans frolicking in the serene waters of the lake. On one bank of the lake there stands a great banyan tree. During summers that bank would seem tempting and some tribal kids could be seen playing under the shade of the tree beside the azure waters of the lake.
Krishnagar was not much developed at that time. It was merely a town, rather it was a peaceful and tranquil place to live; no heavy traffic, not much pollution, not even shopping malls, all too far off from today’s overcrowded madding cities.
Our house there, was surrounded by many trees. In fact the town itself was full of trees and lush vegetation. The place was not much spoiled by the so called advancement of civilization. I remember how I used to cry when during rainy season stormy winds made the palm and coconut trees dance, to and fro, in simple harmonic motion, and made ghostly noise. I was scared of the noise of the rustling of the leaves when the trees wrestled against one another.
Suddenly I felt wet. It was raining. All my friends had already ran into the shed. I was the only one getting wet cherishing my childhood memories of a peaceful place where I had spent three years and seen how beautiful the nature could be. Now that I am 16…that I stand in the middle of a field braving a fierce storm makes me smile. I am no longer afraid of the rainy season.
I wonder how our fears, obsessions, desires and in fact, the basic needs change as we grow up. We make attachments, although we know nothing is perennial, only to put more stress upon ourselves. All children dream of becoming adults and yet when they grow up they miss those distant carefree childhood days. Is it not really possible to get younger?
Lets all try and remain children and not give a damn about what others may think of us!!!