I took a stroll down familiar lanes. It felt nostalgic, reliving the days of childhood, of a life that seems like a different lifetime; when friends would gather around for an impromptu get-together during a power outage; when summer breaks meant you'd come home only for meal breaks, playing endlessly at some random friend's house.
I took a stroll down the lane where an old house stands. A house that once belonged to my grandparents. Now it is no longer ours. The house where I once frolicked about in carefree demeanour has changed too. After passing through different hands, it feels as though the house has found its worthy owner, one that befits the nature of the people who were the original owners.
It felt strange to stand outside that house and look at the houses around. The houses are the same but the inhabitants have changed. Every house reminded me of someone, every lane had a story which had me and my friends playing an important role.
I took a stroll down the lane that brought back the memories of the time when my friends taught me to ride a bicycle; when silly fights erupted over play; when everything was forgotten and forgiven the next day.
I took a stroll down the lane of known people. Some faces are the same but the emotions have changed. Some exude the same warmth but some have become strangers.
Having lived in a place for more than 2 decades, it is natural to come back to a storehouse of memories; a mixed bag of emotions, remembrance and nostalgia evoking tears and laughter in different measures.
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| Image courtesy:idlehearts.com |
