Creativity is at its best when you are in the worst of emotional turmoil….its amazing how agony, solitude, resentment, and dejection help weave creative thoughts and ideas in the labyrinth of your mind. Its also amazing to see how your present day woes in one way or the other connect with your past memories. The transformation and transportation of the mind is out of bounds to what you can imagine.
Memories you never knew existed flash before your self. You had lived those moments but you never knew you had… at times like these, a pain in your leg reminds you of a similar pain you endured years ago when your grandfather took you on his bicycle to your nursery. You were seated on the thin rod on the front of his Atlas bicycle. Your legs intertwined from either sides of the bicycle rod inclined beside the peddle, at times the peddle rubbed against your legs and you lifted both the legs in the same crossed manner. Then when that position caused discomfort you got the legs back to where they originally were. Its not that he could not afford a tiny seat for you, but the thought just dint go on him.
Every morning you waited for your pink plastic basket bag to be packed. You did not bother to check your books and stationery, but made sure the biscuits and lunch box were neatly stacked. You loved to ring the bicycle bell for no reason just to be hit by grandfather on your head, and then duck and feel victorious, as his aim would have been lost to the bicycle handle. Although the seating arrangement on the bicycle was not the best of comfort you wanted to have, you did not utter pain as you did not want him to be sad. You did not want to utter pain as the torture of wading through the waters in the tiny natural canal that was formed as a result of incessant rains and acres of paddy fields on either sides was not rewarding. The canals that were home to the fish, toads, worms, pebbles, thorns, and occasionally those harmless snakes did not fascinate you much. The drops of water that refused to slip off the huge colocasia leaves, the tiny droplets that fell on those leaves collected in the natural groove formed in the palm of the huge outspread leaves and looked like mercury extracted from a thermometer always amused you. The reflection of the suns’s rays that refracted through those huge droplets taught you the first lessons of the behavior of light.
After an adventurous morning tread, you were always late to school. Grandfather increased the peddling speed, when he heard the bell ring from a distance. But you are completely at ease, still trying to comprehend why the colocasia leaves were so fond of the water droplets. Their love fascinated you; the hide’ n’ seek game they played was fun, you thought. The droplets never left a trace of their trail on the leaves. There was such mutual understanding and co-existence in nature. You are suddenly awakened by a push on your back. You struggle to unwind your legs and land on the ground. You free the basket handle off the bicycle handle, ring the bell once again and scoot.