"Adrenaline is rushing through me,
I run away from this chaotic world,
into my peaceful realm.
And that is where all the stories start. "
Sometimes when I miss my childhood, I try to recreate it. I ask my mom to feed me, I watch Dora the Explorer, I scribble on the walls, and jump around like a monkey. But then I realise that it's not the things we did in our childhood that made it special, but rather the feeling of blissfulness inside us when we did them. We were so happy as children that nothing could bother us. Even the tiniest of things excited us. I remember getting excited when it was time to park our car at night. But I can only smile back at the memory now. No matter how hard I try, the same excitement won't come back. It's because I have changed. My thoughts and perceptions of the world have changed. I'm no longer the curious child chasing the butterfly; instead I have deadlines to chase.
However, the memory of a weekend at home during my childhood lives vividly in my memory. Waking up late on a Sunday morning to the sound of water on a hot pan as Amma makes hot and crispy dosas for breakfast (Mmm, that smell!). Getting up from bed and sloppily walking straight to Appa, who's glued to the newspaper, poking our heads in and sitting on his lap, right when a jealous sibling charges straight up and lunges at us. The three of us tickle each other, laugh, and roll on the floor as mom gives a dirty look and we hurry off to the bathroom. My brother and I hurriedly brush our teeth and race each other to get the first dosa, finally settling for half a dosa each (we proceed to fight for the next dosa as well).
The next few hours are spent lazing in the living room, playing uno and monopoly (while munching on snacks) till mom pushes us to take a bath. We race on who takes a bath first, too. Hungry after a refreshing bath, the smell of biryani lifts us. We sit on the floor in a circle, all four of us serving each other. Commending our amma as the best chef in the world after our meals, she orders us to clear the vessels from the floor. Appa and Amma are both snoozing, my brother and I are watching cartoons.
Evening arrives with the ding of the clock at 4pm. We leave to play with our street friends, and don’t return till Amma or Appa practically drag us back home. After an evening bath, all of us hop into the car for a quick ride, my brother and I fighting for the front seat of course, as we search for a restaurant to dine at for the night. (Amma: Vegetarian hotel? Us: No! Appa: Non-vegetarian? Us: Yes!)
Our stomach and heart both full, our parents tuck us into bed and Appa starts reciting a bedtime story, "oru oorula..."
