Betu has gone to visit her Nana-Nani. I do not know, it is the mother leading the way to the child or the child guiding her mother into a relation, which probably she also had forgotten. With her small and tiny fingers, she picks up a small box, covered with cobwebs, clears it, takes out some jewels, which her mother had left under the bed and forgotten; and hands it over to the mother. There is so much innocence in what she does, without even realising the riches that she hands over to the mother. Baba, at the same time stays at home, alone, looking at the videos of Nonu, toothless smiles and smiles with it.
Picture Courtesy- GettyImages I am an only child, though not a child anymore. My childhood went in search of friendships outside the home, and waiting for the evening to come by to immerse into those rare moments of camaraderie. Our days, the Pre-Appu childhood, was largely supervised by our parents. I do not much remember visiting my friend’s place in childhood. Much unlike my daughter and her friends who keep meeting up in their homes. My friends were kids of my father’s colleagues and we met when they met. Friendships were formed and finished in the children park. The interspersed period of loneliness was filled up by books. It was from Comics to pocket-books to Geeta Press to even, Indian Classics like Ramayana and Mahabharata . They filled up my days of solitude with rare happiness. I was called introvert and adults left me alone. It was an arrangement which we both liked. There was no other arrangement in the view. For some reasons, parents those days did not appr...
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