Beauty Of The Beast: Musings Under Lockdown
Mind is not a loner. It likes to frolic with its eternal playmate, the body. The memory, therefore, has a way of encoding itself in our senses. You take a stroll in your childhood neighborhood and suddenly the sunlight filtering through the trees is just so, a cool breeze ruffles your hair and you are instantly transported to a particular time and space long gone by. The images are sharp, and the sensations are all too real as if time is replaying the events right there and then. Or you go to your grandmother’s place and are immediately transported to another time by the signature aroma from the hearth. You can see yourself as a ten-year-old running in on a particularly bright winter afternoon, all panting, hungry and excited, to gorge on freshly done paranthas with achaar, butter or jam, only to be reprimanded to wash and change first. Such is my state of mind these days. I was in my teens in eighties and life had a very different quality and texture to it. The...