When I Forgot My Phone

Wishing everyone a great beginning this July 1st. We still have six months left in this year, there’s time to begin, even if you haven’t started yet. A journey toward becoming something more, professionally or personally. It doesn’t have to be big steps, just small ones. Because even small steps, taken consistently, can lead to something big, I believe.

Today I read a play titled NAGAMANDALA, written by the renowned Indian playwright Girish Karnad. So I think I can consider this as a small beginning for today. And I did something unusual as well, that is, I noted down all the words that were unfamiliar or new to me. Since it was a small play, it had around only 70 pages, I thought to pay attention to each page. Because for a large book, noting down each and every word is quite difficult, but still while reading I would just highlight them and seek their meaning and understand. But today I took an extra effort in writing them down as well. Again, small steps can lead to something big. So yes, this might help me someway.

I really wanted to write a blog on this play - my  thoughts on the first reading of the play. But not today. I’ll surely do a proper, well-written write-up on it in my next blog, I assure.

Today I would like to write on something that just came out from a few seconds of observation.


I left my phone on the sofa

completely forgetting its existence

while I was interacting

with the play.

Its characters

almost directing the scenes myself

giving them life

giving them faces

from everything I’ve absorbed,

Exposed to —

cinema, television, dreams.

It felt like a collaboration

between imagination and text,

to give them a vision, 

my version of 'Form.' 

After a few hours,

I touched my phone,

and it would've thought, 

“Wow… I’m still alive.”

And for that time,

I was its boss,

(as Rufus sir said).


Then Appa arrived,

requested

a cup of tea.

With the energy

and quiet satisfaction

of reading something

And having completed 

In one sitting after so long,

I walked into the kitchen

like a PRO.

Cut the milk packet,

added milk, tea powder, 

sliced ginger,

made

a super tea.

Ahh, my father should say that.

But for the first time

I can also say that

it was indeed a superb tea.


Again, having

immersed

in the world of the play

and my aromatic tea,

I forgot my phone.

When I returned,

I saw my father

holding my phone,

staring at the lock screen for a

minute.

Curious me

looked closer

just to realise

he was admiring my wallpaper,

which was a collage of me in two slides.


On one side,

a 6-year-old me holding a 9mm carbon machine gun;

on the other side,

present me standing outside the Egmore Museum

tired, still fascinated by

art and architecture,

with a luminous smile

competing with the moonlight.


And my father

looking at both versions

went back to his phases of life as well—

being a young dad,

a resilient army man

in his 30s,

and suddenly

time flies,

and he is in his

50s,

Still resilient 

still carrying the same

Love

and admiration for his child.

And never tired

of reminiscing the past,

to talk about it for an hour,

jumping between past and present, 

as time is another room

where he can walk through

Anytime. 

Ending the conversation

with a smile,

and saving a few moments for later conversations

that will return again,

whenever another photograph appears.




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