Boulevard of my Memoirs

Walking down that long and lonely path in the evenings, I have pondered, wondered,envisaged, sulked and dreamed. I have fretted about my family, thought about my friends and analysed people-known and unknown alike. This path with a few ups and downs, trees lined on both sides of the road, the smell of the wild weed enriching the air, auto rickshaws wheezing by once a while and the horse carts tottering away has been my dearest companion during the loneliest years of my life. This is my path from my home that leads to the Titwala Temple.

Right from my school days, I had developed this habit of walking till the temple and back in the evenings when I was too bored and had no one to play with. Walking alone was specially fun as no one disturbed me and I could go on my dream weaving mode without any hassle. When I got my brand new cycle, a ride to the temple and back became an obsession. Making that ride within a certain time limit was something I did just to make myself happy. As I grew up, with numerous classes and loads of homework to be dealt with, cycling stopped, these walks became infrequent but they were still there when I was too bugged with books, teachers and my mom's blabbering on grades and a fantastic "career".

Once I finished school, we moved to Mulund to get closer to my educational institutions and my parent's work place and save precious time on travel. Our beloved "home" was still there and my granny had moved in . This place now became my weekend abode with me rushing there every Friday night or Saturday mornings to get back on Sundays. My craze for fiction had grown into full bloom by the time I finished school and had entered college. So getting away to a silent place and read in peace for two days was a luxury I enjoyed which I had not known then. My granny was a sweetheart when it came to my reading. She never bothered me and left me alone as far as I got up early, ate on time and answered her timely queries.

With books, granny and good food, this path had a way of pulling me back to it. Invariably, I used to walk at least once through this place when I was there. Fromm school to college and out, my thoughts had evolved to more distinct visions , I could distinguish between the need to unwind my thoughts, delearn the teachings of my elders, parents and friends, sulking and plain dreaming. This place had become an inseparable part of my life when it came to de stressing my over worked mind. I remember giving myself pep talks just before exams, wondering what would happen to my life and soothing my ruffled feathers on this road while getting intoxicated with the smell of the weed.

The journey of a young girl who was scared of the world, of people around her, of anything and everything new to a woman who fell in love with similar lonely paths, learnt to be social, dared to be alone but never lonely and who dreams to explore the world and back was taken in this lovely boulevard. I still have my home, but with my granny no more, my visits to this beloved place has reduced to a great extent. From everyday to every weekend,to once a month,it has not come down to once a year or lesser.

This memoir is a result of my visit to this place two days back. The walk (not alone this time) made me realize how special and how important those moments were to me - the time spent with myself. I am not sure if I want those days back but I sure would love to walk down my memory lane once in a while, relive my moments and cherish them. Yes, this path has changed over time in its look and feel and so have I but I guess every time I take this route, it would be the path I "took" that I would remember than the changes that I should  probably notice.