Why do memories of childhood behave so?
Travelling to the present and
Tugging often, as they do,
At the delicate string
That tethers our present to our past.
Why do they invade the crannies of our heart?
Wriggling into the craggy cores
With impunity, and
Occupying even the farthest crevice?
Why do they come?
What do they want?
Aren’t they reminiscent of dusty childhoods?
And, days soiled with the grime of spent age?
A time past and hence, best forgotten?
Then why is it,
That in some vacant chamber
Of our heart, we hear their call?
They often beckon, and more so,
And, more vociferously with age
Arousing a yearning to travel back and visit.
Sigh! If I could, I would go visit.
Yes, I would travel back to
Those naughty lanes of childhood
That cackled with mad laughter
And rang with innocent pranks.
I would travel back to an age
When Papa’s caress and Maa’s kisses
Made the world a better, happier place.
Oh, how I wish, I could travel back
To find me again in the past
For even though I may be, right now,
In the present, I am lost.
But, I cannot travel back, can I?