Yester years are our treasure. If somebody asks me about my favourite place... I would like to utter a name where my childhood days were safe and green, i.e.Shillong. It was in 70s. My father was working as engineer at PWD and Shillong was then the capital of Assam.
I can still feel how I enjoyed viewing rain water flowed down as ripple through closed window glasses. The blurred glasses were cleared by the sleeve of my sweater. Sometimes Ma made some paper boats for us and we enjoyed the movement of paper boats a lot.
Eating the bowl of hot milk with yellow corn flakes was a fun. Chewing Khasi badam from Khasi woman vendor on our way back to home from school. I was in the morning shift primary section. Ah! imagine at that tender age I went to school with my classmate. Freedom of life.
I and our house owner's daughter Maina often took luxurious hot bath not in the bathroom but in the open space where sun rays plays. Age was free of robe.
I happen to share my first prize of life (a set of wooden coloured pencil. Camlin co.) in the dias of Dev Kumer Hall of Vishnupur, Shillong... with Maina. Sharing was a joy then. A naive feel. Roses bloomed here and there, the pine trees, the orange garden, the whispering falls, the cool feel, snow flakes, the humming air, the lake water red fishes, are still fresh in the memory. Time rolls but memories becomes stronger and turns to be shaped as treasure until death.
A Mother, an Artist, a Poet, a Writer and an avid Dreamer… One who paint words and translates...
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