In reply to the daily prompt challenge Salad Days
Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).
The post is an old one but to me it seemed to be an apt response to the challenge.
In my childhood I had read the poem “daffodils” by wordsworth and it amazed me , still does, how the poet captured the moment. I think we can all relate to such moments in our lives, memories which bring smile upon our faces. In fact these are the small things which we most often seem to miss in our daily rush.
Thinking of such moments I see flashes of old memory , a cat in a mustard field, fireflies in a jar , being chased by the guard in mango orchards, building mud houses, bathing in rain , aroma of wet soil and new books,a duckling following its mother,the swings under the mango tree,the sparrows chirping in our courtyard….the list goes on. There are numerous such memories which appear randomly in moments of solitude.
I have these memories because I was brought up differently than my siblings or friends. I grew up in a village and was home schooled for few years. The place where my father was posted as a doctor was a tribal area ,surrounded by hills, it was a serene place untouched by melancholy of urban life. Living there i learned to appreciate nature’s gift to mankind . Our day usually began with a long walk down the village road which led us to a narrow river . I loved the riverside , there i used to sit quietly ,trying to take in all the beauty around me at once ,taking deep breathes inhaling the sweet aroma of wet soil. The beautiful winged insects, the flowers,the sound of rushing water left a lasting impression on my mind.
My school was no less different, built of mud it had thatched roof and only two classrooms. We had to carry our own sitting mats for there was no such arrangement for the students. In the rainy season the classrooms often got filled with rainwater so all of us used to sit in the courtyard chanting in unison ,the alphabets, at the fearsome sound of teacher’s cane. I still remember how one day i went back home crying for i had lost my mat and at that time it somehow seemed to me to be a treasured possession.
Well I don’t know how others would relate to my experiences. But for me they are unique, treasured memories. I am glad I had them for they taught me to appreciate small things in my life ,to be grateful for the flower that blooms in my garden, to share love and compassion ,to appreciate the beauty all around me. We just need to open our eyes and then even a little red bug in the grass will bring smile on our faces.