Legacy

I heard about a death, today. Someone I knew, in my childhood. Though he was a regular in my parents’ set of friends at the time, I seem to have only one memory of him, now: a bright, sunny day, a lively party of a few families in a charming green cove, and his voice and his laugh booming over everyone else’s, as he regaled the ‘grown-ups’ with his stories, and songs.

Though his name did bob up in our conversation, infrequently, over the years, I can’t remember when I last saw him.

His friends cannot remember him as anything but a cheerful, witty man. I heard that, towards the end, he even made up some joke about his having a few months left. In fact, he cared enough to catch up with all his friends, and say goodbye, when he learned that he only had a couple of months left. To stare death in the face, and laugh with those that think they aren't, takes a brave man.

To have lived, and left your loved ones with memories that can’t but make them smile, is a genuine blessing. “He lived a happy life, and he made us happy”, is not something that all of us can look forward to, on our graves.

May his soul, rest in peace. May his spirit live on, with his family and friends.

Monsoon!

TV news says, the monsoon has started in Keralam, a day ahead of 'schedule'! :)

My earliest memory of being outside in the rains, is my mom and I enjoying the heavens drenching us, in the backyard of a house in (what was then) a largish town.

In towns, large and small, I remember waking up in the early morning chill, to the roaring rains outside, and snuggling back into the warmth of my bed, with the depressing thought somewhere in the back of my mind, that I had to go to school.

I remember the thrill of riding in the rain across a city, at an age when one wants to stand out and fit in, at the same time!

I remember gazing forlornly at umpteen shades of green earth and gray sky, beyond the clear veins of rain running down a train window, for, when the next lashings of rain came, they would not come for me.

I remember the giddy roadtrips, across sensuous, dusky forests heavy with the scents of June showers, and down tortuous slithery ghat roads, to an old city by the sea, to hear the sound of a girl’s voice, to watch her smile at life’s simple pleasures.

This monsoon, I hope to visit a town by a river, to watch another girl smile, at a world she has known for just about a month.

This monsoon is my baby girl’s first.