Memories, of your memories

January 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

Memories, of your memories.

I stand beneath that gopuram, between these pillars and ask the silence to tell me, of those days when you hid and played, unseen.

The breeze that blows is filled with the smoke of vehicles, the pillars have been reinforced by concrete and those who seek redemption drop rupees and not annas. This is a world which won’t allow me in without you- the family home is now something else- claimed by wont and avarice of those who sought more than memories and peace. The streets are dirty and the cars line the way, I try to imagine your life, as it could have been, under an emperor and a queen, protected by your namesake, under the vestiges of ancient beliefs.

The time you survived small pox and the man who said you would live albeit your world all but giving up- I cannot think of such a man, or the fact that he was a tenant on our family lands. People have measured you in your life by everything you didn’t do, and you could have done, but you lived a man of beliefs- of a secular life, equality and most of all, excellence in mind and thought. You taught me history, you told me the ways of the world, and gave me stories. And you gave me a philosophy, you gave me a heirloom which none else could have done. For long I felt it was a burden, but in that I found emancipation. I wish I could talk to you about what I feel now, where I stand and what want- at the dining table, just you and I.

I don’t know whose pillars these are, but you were mine. This land, it holds history which stretches far, and the river which flows has reigned the veins of many a maverick.

Do I belong here? You did. I belonged to you, as only a grandson can. Who else would entertain every foible of mine?

Memories, of your memories. I live with them, unburdened now. In them I see who I could be. I am what I am today because of who you were.

3 January went by, but it was unlike any other day, for your birthday will always be special to me. Now, I write, with a tear in my eyes, for none can be you for me(or I for you.)

We humans tend to glorify life, and for its sake death. But, no grandeur can last longer than the last breath. Our histories are ours. To the rest they are but stories and tales, a once upon a time. And in my history there is you, and your stories. In your last breath, you reached for what you believed. I hope in mine, I do the same.

Memories, of your memories.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading Memories, of your memories at the light shines the brightest.

meta

%d bloggers like this: