Dreams

Where Her Heart Lies


‘A girl all of fifteen,
So genial and genteel…’ – was how someone described her once upon a time. 

Perhaps she was much younger than 15 then. Recently, I chanced upon her scribbles in my ol’ diary. There was a note attached to it; it said, ‘A Delightful Imagery from a Charming Mind!’

It took me down the memory lane; and with a smile I thought I would share it with my readers. 
From the memoirs of a bright young girl: 

“I feel like talking about my boathouse in the Kerala backwaters and… how I sit at the edge of the boathouse, and cause ripples in the water with my fingers. I see my reflection in it. And I smile. 

I watch the frogs jump in and out.
I hear them croak. And croak back at them.

I feel like talking of the mountain river… Or of the grasslands.

Or of that banyan tree where my swing takes me higher and higher… and when I get tired of swinging, I gobble down all the colourful toffees one by one sitting under the shade.

Or of lying flat on a small boat swaying slowly over the Hooghly and I look at the Howrah bridge shimmering as the first rays of the day fall over it…

Or of that beach where I hop from one spot to another, on warm sands, in cool waters…and I collect sea shells and put them in my kangaroo pocket…

Or of sitting among the cows with my grandfather in my village and milking the cows…smelling that raw milk…and gulping a cup when he is not watching!

Or of walking across the paddy fields barefoot and reaching over to that giant pump at the corner under the shade of that giant tree… peep into the well beside it…and throw pebbles into it one by one!

Or of that hand-pump at my grandma’s old house… which I try hard to pump… and chuckle away at myself for failing at it every time I try my hand at it

Or of top of that hill from where I could see only white all around… not a sound, and I sit facing the sun feeling its warmth seeping into me

Or of walking across that forest, picking up small wild flowers… those bunches of yellow and pink ones you know…

Or of simply leaning against that tall tree over there and play hide and seek with the sun…

Or of sitting under that big shady tree on that side, and watch the ants pass by slowly, carrying their food on their small backs…then, I poke them in their stomach…and giggle away as they lose their balance and stare back at me with their beady eyes

Or of sitting crouched on that bench in the park… with cool breeze blowing across… of how I blow away the soap bubbles, with some of them popping out right on my nose.
And then of walking along…and meeting this big elephant. Of how he takes me on a ride through the jungle. Of how I eat all his bananas away and giggle away.

Or of walking across that old street licking my ice-cream… and looking at the balloons flying up and up and up…

Or of running across the open grounds with my hands out stretched…till I am out of my breath and then when I am out of my breath… I lie down on the field…close my eyes and laugh.

Or of rolling over the soft green grass… the grass touching my nape, tickling me… and I smile looking at the clouds above…

I feel like talking of all that, of all my dreams… and much more.
With you.”

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3 thoughts on “Where Her Heart Lies

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