Shards of memory

I was about four and learning the rudiments of the alphabet. One of my first attempts at handwriting was to lovingly etch the letter 8216;S8217;...

I was about four and learning the rudiments of the alphabet. One of my first attempts at handwriting was to lovingly etch the letter 8216;S8217; 8212; the first letter of my mother8217;s name 8212; on the surface of her dressing table. The table was new with a glossy finish and appeared a very inviting surface indeed. I used the kitchen knife as deep as I could, to give shape to my efforts.

It was done stealthily. Not because I thought I was doing something wrong but because I thought I would be giving a pleasant surprise to my parents. No one was around when I was doing this, but once my handiwork was discovered I was disciplined 8212; but rather mildly. My mother showed my handiwork to my father. They both laughed at my efforts but did not encourage them. My mother, sentimental as she was, dotingly preserved the result of my childish prank for years.

It8217;s funny this need to preserve such memories. I understood the urge only much later, when I had kids of my own. I have retained, dated and zealously kept among my important papers the unused 4-anna postal envelope which became precious to me after little Poppy, my child, had drawn on it the sketch of a train with its steam-engine emitting ribbons of smoke.

How fondly my wife and me remember the day our toddler, Daisy, suddenly appeared in the drawing room while we were having tea holding a shining shard of china. We were aghast when we discovered that the piece was a fragment from the new and expensive tea set we had just purchased and was lying partly unpacked in the living room. The mother8217;s first impulse was to check whether the broken cup had injured the fingers of the child. That piece of pottery is now priceless and among our prized possessions, reviving pleasant memories of bygone days.

Then the grandchildren came and we were kept marvelling at their antics. When little Kabir thought that the TV set had gathered a lot of dust and needed some cleaning, he liberally sprayed water on it, using a sprinkler. The idiot box stopped working for days after that until the June heat finally dried up all the moisture.

We leave many things behind as we go through life. But there are some that remain with us 8212; as reminders of the eternal circle of life.