My Earliest Memory Posts


Just like I did, my friends at Write Tribe too shared their Earliest Memory under this beautiful logo. 🙂

My Earliest Memories

My Earliest Memories

Here is the complete list of Earliest Memory Posts. 🙂 Do read them. They all are fun trips down the memory lane. 🙂

You can also find them on my Pinterest Board. 🙂

Living in Pain

Festival of Words

Festival of Words

Shikha was staring at the couple on the dance floor. They were her best friends from childhood. She had always admired their relationship. While in college, their friendship was just that, nothing more. The three of them were inseparable. They grew up together and the bond they shared remained intact through adulthood. On her lap now was their beautiful daughter.

Shikha had chosen to become a doctor and the other two graduated together from an engineering college in the same city. She kept her feelings hidden for so long. But she was craving to be in his arms now too.

Written for the Second Festival of Words at Write Tribe – Day 1 – Memory/Memories.

vecchio libro con stilografica

NaBloPoMo December 2013




The ride home was a quiet one. Reema couldn’t recognise the streets, the buildings that passed by or the people in her car. She had just spent that last month in a hospital under the care of the wonderful doctors and nurses there. She had grown to trust them and love them even. Nurse Rama was her favourite and she is the one who helped her understand the circumstances of the accident that she had been in. She had lost her memory. She didn’t know who she was. She feared that anyone could manipulate her in these circumstances.

The last place that Reema wanted to go to was her so called home. She hadn’t yet got used to her mother and father . The thought of leaving the familiarity of the hospital room and entering an unknown place and life was frightening for her. She found it hard to remember anything about herself even. If someone asked her whether she preferred Tea or Coffee in the morning, she wasn’t sure. But then she realised she loved the taste of a cup of Coffee in the morning.

She was relearning her life again now. Her likes, her dislikes, her parents and her younger brother Rohan. She wondered how she couldn’t recognise this bundle of excitement. Rohan was a hyperactive 12 year old. She herself is just 16, she was told. But she somehow felt much older. As she entered the house that she had lived in for 16 years, she couldn’t find a single thing that seemed familiar. The sofa, the curtains, the dining table, the kitchen entrance on the far right corner and a pathway on the left that led to three bedrooms.

It looked like a lovely home to come back to. There was a bouquet of roses on the table. 12 beautiful yellow ones. That brought a smile on her face. Seeing the smile, her mother was moved to tears. Her mother had brought it just for her because they were her favourite kind. Reema felt happy that her likes and dislikes perhaps hadn’t changed much. It would be easy for her get back to her old life. The doctor had told her not to stress so much. Her memories would came back slowly, maybe one at a time even.

They spent the evening in the sitting room watching TV and snacking on popcorn. It was a Friday night and nobody had to reach anywhere early the next morning. So they stayed up even after dinner watching episodes of Castle on TV. Rohan said that Castle was her favourite series and that she would not miss an episode ever. He had recorded it for her in her absence. Reema was highly moved by this gesture. She gave Rohan a bear hug and suddenly she found herself in familiar territory. She loved the way her brother smelled. It felt so familiar and good that she held on to the embrace a bit longer than normal. Which obviously irritated the hell out of Rohan, who quickly wriggled out of her embrace. Both smiling at the memories it brought back.

Reema decided it was time she took a look at her bedroom. Maybe it would trigger some more memories. She felt bitter as soon as she entered  her room. There were posters of rock bands she vaguely remembered, there posters of her favourite actors. there were memorabilia of all kinds around the room. The smell of old books from her shelf beckoned her towards them. She went towards the bookshelf and touched the familiar texture of her collection. A collection she was always proud of. The one her grandfather left for her in his will. She was an avid reader by the age of 8 and her grandfather made sure she read all the classics that he had owned.

She noticed a small stuffed giraffe on her bed. She crawled into her bed hugging her giraffe. Memories flooded in at that moment. The tight situation she was in on that fatal day. The way she had held on to Raj that day on the bike. He was a college student and had invited her for a party. On the way back they had met with an accident. She had regained her lost memory up to the point where she saw a lifeless Raj lying on the road next to the shattered bike.

She closed her eyes as tears rolled down and soaked her pillow. She doesn’t want to remember the plans she had made with Raj. She doesn’t want to remember how she had gone against her parents wish and sneaked out at night to go for the party. She didn’t want to think of how Raj had held her close during the dance and how she had felt like his queen. About how she had longed to be in that situation ever since they had met at a party a few months ago.

Her parents and brother walked into her room and sat around her on her bed. Rohan held on to his crying sister in a tight hug till she stopped sobbing. She later fell asleep on her mother’s lap with her father caressing her head with soft strokes. She was sorry, they knew that. For a while, her parents hoped that she had never regained her memory. It would have saved their daughter so much pain. But memories always have a way of coming back. To haunt and to make us repent and to learn from mistakes and to help us move on in life despite them.

Written for Write Tribe Wednesday Prompt : “the smell of old books” 


Three Word Wednesday Prompt : Use the three words below in the post.

Bitter, adjective: Having a sharp, pungent taste or smell; not sweet; (of people or their feelings or behavior) angry, hurt, or resentful because of one’s bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment; (of a conflict, argument, or opponent) full of anger and acrimony; (often used for emphasis) painful or unpleasant to accept or contemplate; (of wind, cold, or weather) intensely cold.
Manipulate, verb: Handle or control (a tool, mechanism, etc.), typically in a skillful manner; alter, edit, or move (text or data) on a computer; examine or treat (a part of the body) by feeling or moving it with the hand; control or influence (a person or situation) cleverly, unfairly, or unscrupulously; alter (data) or present (statistics) so as to mislead.
Tight, adjective: Fixed, fastened, or closed firmly; hard to move, undo, or open; (of clothes or shoes) close-fitting, uncomfortably so; (of a grip) very firm so as not to let go; (of a formation or a group of people or things) closely or densely packed together; (of a community or other group of people) having close relations; secretive; (of appearance or manner) tense, irritated, or angry; (of a rule, policy, or form of control) strictly imposed; (of an area or space) having or allowing little room for maneuver.

Write Tribe



NaBloPoMo November 2013

Picture Courtesy : Businessinsider

That first day


It was my first day in college. Not just my first day in college, but my first day in any Indian Institution. My first day in a co-education system. The day in class was spent on introductions and settling down to the college atmosphere. Getting used the college air. Getting used to the “infamous” verandah in the college. Getting used to looking at a Senior with a sense of fear and maybe a bit of respect too.

The first floor was “no access domain” for the seniors. This was purely to avoid ragging of any kind. I was the only day scholar amongst girls. I didn’t have to follow the Freshie Dress Code. And what a dress code it was.! You had to wear mismatched salwar kameez. All three pieces must be of different colours. Hair must be oiled and plaited. To top it all, you had to wear only Hawai Chappals. I felt sad for the girls, in a way. But in a way I was happy too for them. They were united in that fate. I was alone.

Later, on that first day itself, we had a fresher’s meet in the auditorium. The principal and staff welcomed us, explained the rules and told us to register a complain about any inconveniences we face in college or hostel. My mom was waiting outside the college with my brother-in -law. They knew when the last bell would ring and were patiently waiting for me.

Because of the meeting , I was delayed. There were no mobile phones back then to message my mom and tell her the reason for my being late. I knew she would be upset. But, I couldn’t possibly walk out of the room just because mom was waiting, right? So I stayed till the end of the meeting.

When I walked down the steps to reach the parking lot, I noticed my mom sitting in the car with the windows down and eyes on the steps that I was going to use to come down . I saw the relief on her face when she saw me. At that point, the rebel in me, thought that she just didn’t trust me to be left alone anywhere. She has always been the over protective mom. It is only now , now that I am a mom too, do I realise what she must have gone through in that one hour that I was delayed. They did ,however, come to know about the meeting towards the end of that hour, on enquiry. But the anxiety of her child’s first day in college and the dangers that lurk around, always makes a mother paranoid.

This is the memory that came rushing back into my thoughts when I visited my college premises last month, after 17 years. That is a very long time. Almost feels like an eternity ago. How everything about me has changed since then!

You want to see it? Well, this is where it all began. My life as an adult. My life as a free (or somewhat free) soul. This is where it all changed. My thoughts, my ideas, my perception , my friends and my love.

Nothing much has changed there. A few new blocks have been added to the college and hostels and they have put check points all through the campus and hostels. Ironically , even the temple, children’s park and the park are all inside the campus. We have to cross check points to enter these premises. I had to tell them that I am an ex student and they let me in to see it all. 🙂

Let’s begin with the entrance and the steps, shall we?

MIT Entrance

MIT Entrance

Next, the entrance to the first floor , where we used to make Pookalam during Onam season. Where all the tables were laid when registrations were going on for various events. You can see the tables now too. New batch was settling in on the day I visited. It was closing time and thankfully isolated.  I have sat in one of those chairs , while I took in registrations for a cultural event. Ages ages ages ago.

MIT Entrance Hall

MIT Entrance Hall

Don’t you want to see the inside of my campus? It just brings in a flood of memories! I wouldn’t know where to begin.

The main campus

The main campus

Next comes to the second most visited place in Manipal during my stay there. This was close to our hostel and we could walk to it every morning if we wanted to. This place has brought so much Solace to aching souls there. All those homesick freshers, all those “give me marks I smash coconuts” students, all those love sick and lost souls. I bet this temple and its adjacent parks have a million stories to tell.

Sree Krishna Temple

Sree Krishna Temple

Adjacent to this temple are the parks. The one right in front of the temple was for romantic walks , complete with flowers and fountains. In front of this was a Bhel Puri Vendor. That was the first time I tasted Bhel Puri. There is still one there now and it still tastes the same. I like them without onions.

Bhel Puri Park

Bhel Puri Park

Now comes the most important place. You see the swings in the picture below? I used to spend most of my evenings there on them. That is when and where I used to think about everything with a free mind. After sunset, just after rains, in that cool wind, my hair flying all over the place. It was an amazing feeling. This is the part that I miss the most about my life in Manipal.

Park Swings

Park Swings

I have more pictures of the college and Manipal , but this post is already too lengthy. Maybe some other time, I will share more. If nostalgia forces me to.

So what are your first day in college memories? Do share them. College years are after all the best years of our lives, however uneventful they might have been…..

A Sepia Me


4 year old me

This was taken when I was around 4 years old. My dad had just come from Dubai for the first time and he had brought a lot of gifts for us three sisters. I was trying them all and my dad , who loves the camera,  kept clicking away to glory. I took this one from an album when I visited  my parents home in Kerala two years ago.

I am the youngest of three sisters with my older sisters 6 and 7 years older to me. Figures, right? Yeah, that’s the reason I am the way I am. Just incase you were wondering. 🙂

This was taken in my mother’s ancestral home in Mezhathur, Palakkad, Kerala. During the one year of childhood I spent there, before we shifted to Dubai. We were in Chennai before that. 🙂

This photo brings back all those memories. Not that I remember it all, but I remember glimpses of it. This photo remains as a part of my treasure trove. Feels like a lifetime ago. And it sort of is. 🙂

This post is written for That Tuesday Thingy, at Indiblogeshwaris. 🙂

Bus Stop Memories


I remember, ages ago, back in the school days, the wait for the school bus was one of the most important events of the day. Bus stop memories are truly the imprinting kind. In fact, it used to be such an important event, that, even now I dream about missing the bus and running to catch it at its next stop. At that point in time, my dad used to leave home earlier than us, and missing the bus meant, missing school. Finding a taxi at 6:30 am was not an easy task. Which was not a problem at all for me. No big deal, I thought. Unfortunately, my mom didn’t agree. So I still get nightmares of “missing the bus” ritual. I still remember the route the bus took. And I still remember the smell of fresh bread from a bakery en route school.

School buses are a treasure trove of stories. Gossips, fights, secrets and a whole lot of free entertainment. The girls and the boys, the seniors and the juniors have their own designated seats. And catching seat for your then best friend is no longer important. I guess, children are far more mature these days than should be.

My kids get into the bus at 6:30 am too on school days. There is only one another child from their stop here. My kids are in senior school and obviously have different seating areas from the KG boy who gets in from the same stop. He and his cheerful mother are always a lovely sight in the morning. I watch them from my balcony and remember the good old days in Abu Dhabi, when I used to wait beside my babies at the bus stop when they started school. The boy is an extremely loving child. He showers the mom with kisses and vice versa regularly.

My daughter says, he wakes up this early in the morning only to accomplish one major event of his day. And that is to overtake (her) didi (elder sister) and (my son) Bhaiya(elder brother) and be the first one to enter the bus. I am not sure if he will remember this ritual when he grows older. But I am sure my kids and I will never forget. Today, he almost screamed when my daughter acted as though she was about the enter the bus before him. He was too busy playing with a kid from another school. He ran and climbed into the bus with a happy triumphant expression when his didi gave him way.

Today is an unusually cool morning here in Dubai. My daughter has gone to get her answers papers of her final exams that got over last week. And my son has a week more of board exams left. That’s about all that is happening at my end. Do share with me how you have been too. And maybe share a few bus stop memories too. 🙂

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