Photographs and Madeleine memories

Happy Father's Day

(Sharing some warm memories)

(I have added a certain word which you may not find in a dictionary☺)

My father was a photographer.  He used to own a shop, his photo studio, where he always liked to hang some of the photos he has taken from different occasions.  He was fond of capturing moments, whether it was a Sunday getaway on the beach or we wearing glittery clothes before stepping outside for celebrating durga puja. 

So i will begin with my first eidetic memory of his photography. 

My first day for kindergarten. . . 

 

I was anxious, scared because I didnt know what was happening. I knew that I was going to be somewhere else where I have never been before. That morning my mother got me dressed up. I was wearing a uniform, orange coloured plaid pinafore with a white shirt. 

In my Father's photo studio, he used to have a green coloured plastic tambourine to distract kids from crying while taking their pictures. He would tap the tambourine so that my anxious face can turn into a smily one. He took my first picture of my first day for kindergarten where he asked me to give the nicest expression and all i came up with was sticking out my tongue! Then he walked me to the school. I was crying and sobbing until I reached school and later made handful of friends who just like me, were sobbing for their first day. (All of us might have cried for our first day at school, right? ) 

Fast forward three years, and now, iam sitting behind, in his silver metallic colored Bajaj Chetak Scooter, vroom vroom, sunny day, all the way to the primary school, the best 15 minutes ride for my next 6 hours! I was tightly holding his waist and my heart was beating fast because I forgot to complete my homework! 

Every night, he would tell stories from panchatantra, in a most wonderful way, to put me through sleep. 

Again fast forward six years and now, iam still sitting on his two - wheeler vehicle but this time it was Hero honda splender, a little upgrade! So there we were, vroom vroom, moving towards the secondary school. Our secondary school uniform was a white coloured salwar- kameez with a dark blue odhini, oily braided hair with white ribbons tied up nice and tight, black shoes with a pair of white sock,  and oh yes, I was anxious again, because I forgot to  complete my maths homework ! 

I was an avid reader of "champak", a story book with fascinating cartoon characters, animals dressed up like human beings with a tiny dose of moral in each of the story. Every month i used to buy this book from a nearby book store. Sometimes the books were not easily available back then. And then i come home with a little disappointment on my face.  So my father added a monthly subscription for champak, firstly, an year full of hindi books, but later that year I switched to the English version. 

Let's fast forward another six years, and now, iam a college girl. Skinny, shy, only talkative to those who I was friends with, truly discovering myself, and staying at hostel.  We, as a hosteler, always waited and kept on checking the calenders for holidays. Onam, Durga puja, Christmas, New year, Vishu, Holi, whichever it was, we were very grateful for these tiny little breaks in our lives. Every holiday, I would rush towards the bus ticket counter to get my tickets for home(the homesickness back then was very intense). 

The long bus ride ,on my way home, always gave me livilence. 

The first thing I always did after reaching my home was hugging my father and mother and the entire conversation begins with the discussion of my lean body (hostel food) , tan skin, rough hair, dull face etc. 

Once my father wrote a poem, in malayalam language, and it was full of yearning, to once again revisit his village in Kerala. And somehow I felt like writing too, with smaller details and simple objects as my focus. 

The final Fast forward.🍀🌸

Five years and now, iam fond of writing. 

No matter how fast forward the years go by, deep down I will always be that little girl who used to sit on my father's bajaj chetak silver coloured scooter and tightly holding his waist. Hairband on short oily mid parted hair, white ribbons, blue tie, white shirt tucked into the dark blue thick pleated skirt, powdered face, lots of kajal thanks to mother, and a huge micky mouse printed bag with books I barely touched! 

So this year I decided to celebrate father's Day by cherishing some fond memories of "Us". I expressed my gratitude in the form of something that I have learned from my father: habits of avid reading, eloquent speaking and perceptive writing. 

 

Today, I dedicate my haiku poetry to him. 

In this haiku, as I mentioned, he is an artist. He actually makes free style sketches and illustrations, loosely based on malayalam politicians, old cartoon characters and country side of Kerala. 

P. S. ~ My Father is a handyman too (almost every father). He can fix almost everything! Especially on Sundays!