'To the world you may be just one person , but to one person you may be the world'
Ok! That's an extreme expression in this particular case. But its close! This salwar clad woman may be just another ordinary person, but for me, she is my walking talking childhood that refuse to grow up .
Every year when I travel home, she comes to meet me. Every time she comes, she unwraps beautiful moments from the past I want to indulge in !
We then wandered like vagabonds plucking flowers, ripping leaves, munching on the tropical fruits found in the tree shaded yard, sharing itty bitty secrets, checking on the cattle, shaking off the final resting drops of rain from the tree.
Year after year when we meet, we walk down the memory lane chuckling away at the seemingly silly but intense montage looming large.
Those days we just enjoyed childhood,we didn't think beyond. It didn't matter whether she was a Muslim or a Christian, it didn't matter whether she was rich or poor, it didn't matter whether she was clean or not ! All that mattered was the inexplicable joy we shared as kids.
When my school holidays ended, i had to leave her and my beautiful ancestral house to return to the mundane school life. When I left ,I used to keep looking back and wave until she turned into a little blur figure. Then i would look ahead , use my fingers and toes to count my days to the next holidays.
I feel rich. Maimoona, she made me rich !!
