Packet Achar.

I am walking on my way to our paternal uncle's house. And its a hard work because walking through sands on two inch heels is something only a dope like me, will do. Its as simple as that. I can't remember correctly when I started being half-witted so much, that I stopped enjoying the warm feel of the beautiful, dry, golden sands of Vadanapally between my toes. All I see now is the sand I evoked up by crumpling it helplessly between my feet and shoes. And beyond my partly closed lids that are trying to shade my eyes, just like my mind which refuges my heart from memorizing certain melancholies of life; I'm striving to remember the last time I ran on those sunlit grounds barefoot...

There was a time, when life itself was a celebration of freedom; A freedom from myself; A freedom before I had set myself up with certain politeness and the so-called 'wannabe-lady' behaviors which were ruthlessly against having strolls over the soil with naked soles; Freedom to walk around and run along hand-in-hand with my beloved cousins and laugh at each others' soil-tagged hands and legs at the end of the day.

But, then again, who cares about those self-presentations even now, perhaps despite me; when nothing is more exquisite at Vadanapally than the affectionate hugs from loved ones and their constant insistence of dining on the fresh mouth-watering fish curry and rice. Those are something that can't get enough of, any time, any day. Shame to admit it is, that one thing that I seldom enjoy though among my native foods is pickle. Its a pity for my palate without any excuse that I can't handle those beautiful color-rich delicacy. All I get along with its hotness, are tearful eyes and runny nose.

While I was cherishing the stainless love of my families served with taste of homemade food, my in-built tendency slowly drifted me apart from the surroundings; the slots of my childhood are starting to play again. I could recollect through those rewinds that I have had enjoyed those spicy preserves many a times. When me and Sameeha would sit and chat for hours under the trees behind our homes, overlooking the big fields; Sameer would buy us little packets of mango achar from the small shops. 'Packet Achar' as we used to call it. And we would relish it all to our hearts, even if it used to take us, squeeze those packets together just so that we could fight laughingly with each other, for the last remaining drops. Well, those Achars were worth having a few tears and a lot of smiles, fun and laughter, together; From its extra hotness in our mouths, from the warmth in our hearts, it surely had blessed us along with the greatest gift of life called friendship...

I wish I knew how could I ever pay back the love and happiness they gave me. The sands of my homeland summed up everything we had. And when one day, those sands didn't grip the four wheels enough on time, we lost Sameer to Vadanapally soils forever..


Without turning over the pages of life's crystal clear pictures with sadness, but facing them with all my love, I now smile over the fact that I still have a few tears left to share with Sameeha, for Sameer... And facing them with all gratefulness too; that I still have Vadanapally as pristine as She ever is; Always ready to welcome me back whenever I wish to be home with my ever so dearest ones.


Dearest Sameeha,

I hope you remember all those wonderful times and I deeply wish from my heart that I could be there for you more... I owe you both, the most beautiful times of my life with all its unprecedented innocence and a lifetime of friendship vows, more than to anyone else. Love you with all my remaining childhood legacy that somewhere you have left inside me; and I happily would love to say that its all always yours, as it has always been.

P.S. - We lost our Sameer to a fatal accident on December 2008... He now lives in our hearts. Till we do.