My childhood was spent somewhere amongst the marshy rain forests. There were tall trees everywhere. They cast a mysterious shadow on my tiny village. The fear of ghosts popping out from anywhere prevailed, all the time. Many a times, my mind goes back to those years, when my mother left me at my grandma’s mother’s place when she went out to work.
I remember going fishing with an aunty of mine. We would perch on the broken stairs of the pond, waiting for a fish to fall prey to our bait.
In the monsoons, when it rained, my world brimmed with luster. I would sit on my verandah. Look at the streams of red, and muddy waters meeting at cross roads.
And beg an uncle or someone to make me a paper-boat or two. I devoured all the joys of life that way…till then. And that was before I came to the city. Lived there like an outsider for a year or so, before it swallowed me in its never-ending expanse of humankind. But gradually city became home…