[image error]

“No mama, you never understand. So don’t even try”, said my expectedly defiant daughter as she banged her door on me. No one would agree that parenting was easy, but sometimes even I wanted to give up for the day. I fondly remembered the time when her world revolved around me, and of course her father. She would yelp in delight as we got back home from work every night, and smother wet kisses and tight hugs on us turn by turn. Her first footsteps and her first fall. Each time she fell, she’d come running to make it okay with a kiss. Every morning she would wake up and cry till she could see and touch me. All that seemed so long ago. Times have changed, and my adorable toddler has turned into a rebellious teen. A tough nut to crack, but mellow and soft on the inside – as only I knew it.

It was understandable why she was behaving the way she was – her best friend was moving out of the city. On account of her father’s job transfer, this was inevitable and there was nothing the two friends could do about it. Other than spend the little time left the best way they can. Reminds me of a similar incident I had to face long ago. I was forced to leave behind a childhood I had so lovingly built, and friends so carefully picked and nurtured, and build my life again in what people called my ‘native place’. It was funny the notions people develop about the word ‘home’. Lush greenery, coconut trees, heavy rains and a sky that is forever overcast – these images rushed to my mind whenever I thought of my native place. But when I thought about home, it was a different canvas altogether. A modest apartment that was far from attractive, a cluttered room, a bookshelf stuffed with Enid Blyton, Ruskin Bond and R K Narayan, pigeons fighting for space in a small balcony…the only signs of green were the greyish-green doors and windows of the apartment the Government gave to us free of cost. Ten years later, scorching summers and chilly winters had sketched a lovely portrait of what would remain my idea of home for a long time to come.

Childhood was made up almost entirely of school. Right from walking to the bus stop with my father till the time I ambled back home, the day was filled with a potpourri of moments. Some happy, some sad, but every one of them blessed and truly missed. Winters meant walking right into the early morning fog with nothing but torchlight and my father’s hand as the guiding force. Doing whatever humanly possible to avoid taking my hands out of my blazer pockets, I wandered around in school just like everyone else. School assemblies were a test in patience, and most days when we opened our mouths to sing the national anthem, only mist would come out. Biting the chill from November to January, winter was also a time of warmth. A time of bonding, sweet memories and melting moments…When the company of friends and conversations about ‘nothing in particular’ could warm us more than a fleece blanket or a bonfire. Summer days stretched on and on, with the sun burning down on us till late evening. But never once did I feel the fire. We walked around at midday, happily chattering with friends and sharing stories like we always did. Each day ended on a good note. No matter how bad the exams went, or how tough a time some teachers gave us, or even however much remained to be done for the next day, we went to bed with a sweet happiness and gratitude which we were too young to realize. No text messages, but always connected. We never asked each other “What’s up?”. We knew the answer already, probably more precisely than anyone else.

Years have come and gone, and a lot has changed. Including the people who made my childhood what it was. Now they were just names that aroused nostalgia, and a flashback to a better time. But thankfully, some things never change. Some people never leave. Like the moon that takes new shapes every night, but always returns. All you have to do is look up and spot the light shining down on you. A million nameless stars light up our skies, but there is only one moon. And you know it’s there always. You don’t seek assurance, you’re sure. That is friendship for me.

I looked out the window and smiled at the night sky. My daughter had time. She would eventually work around the stars and find her moon.

Photo Courtesy: Christy Birmingham (https://www.flickr.com/photos/christybirmingham/8591696155/in/photolist-e6dFWk-bBmySs-97P8Rb-5ARxSq-aq2DMi-qC6Q3W-5FN4xB-61tTpN-bvxZsU-dv8Waf-ahgX8t-ktnYHN-5aeizb-uiu4Sx-bvy2LW-bJsMJe-7U3yso-7TZdPg-7U3qhs-6HKumo-bA5QCQ-4eCBMJ-bvy2o1-bJsA2T-7TZhp6-7TZfyT-7TZ9pc-w9hfKr-mKbUxb-fc3B4M-bNe5Fa-qxmyzr-2WWdDE-bWcVJA-bzjfM9-7em3R9-7Tvt9T-ij7gyL-bziZsG-8CMKKZ-bWcXby-dae2NX-7uBthx-5yweP8-7wtvf-9W8bpB-9hHKGp-9VUGvV-79RwaJ-cUgf9Y)