of having been somewhere
With someone
(Not always a literal place)
Of having travelled a distance
Many miles
Or perhaps a few significant steps
Maybe crossed a chasm, together
Now each battling her own chasm
Comes, unannounced, the thrill
of belonging to a community
A kafila, even if for a while
The camaraderie jumps out from
email threads long archived
Smiles back from chats long forgotten
And laughingly pulls you back in time.
It takes a while to regain your present self
The self that has its arms outstretched
towards the past, frozen in a high-five
but finds its feet in today
Rooted, grounded, unable to move.
Unlike time.
What colour is nostalgia?
That it drapes you in
Drenches you in
Paints the moment with a hue
that’s happy and sad at once
What shades would you draw from it?
What patterns can you discern?
It’s light in some places, dense in others
But a uniform colour of reminiscence
That leaves you here and there at the same time.
So many people have crossed your path
So many whose stories you’ve partaken in
Some Shift+Delete-d with good reason
But existing still on the fringes of your memory
Waiting to be discovered, lurking
(The mind’s no computer; the keys don’t work the same way)
So many others you might have held on to
In intent or stray desire
Too many strands to be holding at once
Each vibrant and colourful
Deserving of rightful attention
If only there were 10 of you
10 lifetimes
24 X 10 hours
Somewhere the roads diverged
without a chance of a hasty bye
Why would you close that
which might bump into you at the next turn?
Lesser still those whom you want to re-meet
The phone tells me I’m a call away
from hearing familiar voices
FB tells me it takes a second
to ‘Like’ someone, again
Befriend, reconnect, ‘follow’
But the mind?
The mind takes its own time to build bridges
Over stagnating water of old expectations
now discarded, lying around
To reconcile the idea of a person
Frozen in time long ago
With who he has become now
What flavor is nostalgia?
That it stays on your tongue for so long
Salty, bitter-sweet, sour too
Lingering long after the memory is gone
What dish would you whip up with it?
Whose taste would endure
Aroma remain intact
Nay, it will vanish like vapour
into thin air
Leaving you with naught
Save the fragrance on your hands
Have you tried plucking an enchanting flower
only to see it wilt in your hands?
Realized it was best left untouched
on the plant, in the garden?
So it is with remembrance
People, places, events
They are a world unto themselves
Sitting smug in their intended spaces
Smiling smug, their unmoved faces
At your retrieval attempts
Parallel Universes, these
Proceed with their routine as you live out yours
Dip in and out at will
Sepia, the colour of nostalgia
Sealed in dusty photo-frames
Playing as movies in your head
Kept shining with every replay.
