Tender!

Last week, I was clearing some old suitcases after a long gap, about eight years to be exact. What it brought was a mixture of feelings, an odd melancholy that stood at the top. Its quite common to feel that way, yes, as we reflect on the people we met and the letters / birthday cards, 'Thank You' notes and those old boarding passes [yes, I saw two of them tucked in a side pocket]. As is my nature, I slowed down, contemplating more and more on those wonderful days. I felt so tender for a moment. Did you realize this before? We always have a soft corner when it is about children or our own past times.

"Why should there be a regret?", I asked myself. I agree that life has to move on and one cannot be in that same state which was in the past. Also, upon thinking harder, one might find that he / she is at a much better state most of the times, be it financially or even mentally, as the experience just shines upon the person. There is a saying that goes thus - "Growing up is always associated with pain!". I took the literal meaning earlier where it was all about the aches in the body due to the growth of the bones and my kid even cries at nights before going to bed. But there is this angle perhaps. You learn to move on, leaving behind, mostly without your knowledge, many things that mattered to you the most at one point of time. Be it the childhood friendship, love of grandparents, first crush or something like it, first memories of being appreciated / accepted and first victory however small or trivial.

As you look back, these odd moments are the brightest ones that live somewhere in you and you can bring them back, when you feel sad. And at times, your focus is drawn inward where you remember a particular person and that day vividly when he / she made that difference that was noted by you. In the complex web called life, we often get caught in our own mess in any and every front, be it in personal relationships or at work. And one of the main things that bring us back would often be a thought that got etched somewhere deeper in us. We mellow as we grow and at times feel for not being admitted in to the world of our children, though it sounds crazy even to us later.

I tore an expired season ticket and several envelopes that carried old bank statements [am still in that same boat - one credit and countless debits every month] and finally stopped while seeing that little yellow sticker. It had my name and for a moment, I remembered that chubby face of a colleague who met me just a couple of times. I don't know anything about him, other than the fact that he was an Indian by race and a UK citizen by birth. On a particularly depressing day before Christmas, where it was as dark as midnight at around 04.00 p.m. in London, he came there late to work, wearing that smile that warmed me a bit. "See what I have!", he said while shaking hands with me. And then showed that. "What is this?", I asked. "Wait!", he said and typed something in a small console and tapped hard on what looked like a button to me. It printed a yellow sticker, less than 5 centimeters, having my short name and a logo of a computer. "How is it?", he asked, beaming. "Nice!", I said, not knowing what to add further. "Its a sticker actually!", he said and left to meet someone else.

I don't know why, I remember his face now, and feeling so soft and tender!

Tender!