The Way We Were.

There are some days when one gets hit with more than a couple of reminders of how fragile life is and today is one of those.

First in the morning, I rang up my elder cousin to wish him on his 78th birthday and he reminisced about how his birth day and my father’s day of death are the same and also how his son’s birthday and my late younger brother Arvind’s day of death are the same. Both he and his son had younger to their father uncles who died on their birthdays!

I sit to open the mail and I find this from my brother Barath in London to me and our sister Padmini in Bengaluru, reminiscing about Arvind just because he heard Barbara Streisand singing. Despite the long distances that separated the four siblings, we were very close to each other thanks to a dysfunctional home during our childhood and teens. The bonds developed then haven’t been eroded by time but the untimely loss of one has been quite devastating.

“I have been thinking about Aravind and all the childhood memories of being together, albeit briefly. I just thought that this expresses it all for me and brings tears to my eyes.

God I miss him, his Joie de vivre, his imitations, his straightforwardness and most of all, his extreme ability as an Engineer.”

Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-coloured memories
Of the way we were

Scattered pictures
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were

Can it be that
It was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we?
Could we?

May be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were

17 thoughts on “The Way We Were.”

  1. I remember Arvind repairing my bicycle, looking after me in Bombay when I was four years old to prevent a Cobra from getting me, making sure I was never bullied by anyone, singing Mukesh songs with that nostalgic look on his face, the way he imitated Neelappa ahead of the time he came to see me on my first return to India from the UK, but most of all, I remember that it was he who gave me a loan of his Lambretta scooter to go into town in 1962 to get my passport and visa which effectively stymied the old man from preventing my exit to the UK.

  2. This brought tears to my eyes – what a touching post. The best memories can make us the most sad. Thinking of you.

  3. Joi de vivre is irresistible.
    Our sibling relationships are usually the longest in our lives and our siblings know the forces which formed us better than anyone else so their loss is considerable

Comments are closed.