On a toy autorickshaw, Amma's miracle & fading memories.
24 July, 2022. Issue #008 of Brief Notes on Life.
01. On a broken toy autorickshaw and Amma’s miracle.
Green and white. The toy autorickshaw (Tuk-Tuk). The top half painted green and the bottom half - coloured white. I was six years old. It was '94. I remember wondering how the toy worked. There were no batteries. Simply a spring mechanism. You had to wind the spring and release the --
When one of tyre wheels broke, I took it to my mother- Amma. The broken piece of tyre-wheel in one puny hand and the rest of the rickshaw in other. She looked at it for a while, closely examining the tiny tuk-tuk as I watched her with wide eyes, filled with apprehension. Then she smiled. Tears had already started welling up my eyes. She cupped my face in her hands and said something beautiful. I don't remember the words. I wish I could. But I remember feeling full of warmth, filled with hope. Relieved, like someone had pulled a blanket of safety around me. As if, all the things that are broken in the entire world could be made right again and there was never any reason to worry in the first place. Amma could conjure up that kind of miracle.
I followed Amma to the inner quarters, to a room at the back of the house that was used as a store room. There was a big iron trunk there. She opened the trunk, searched within and shuffled a few items. I was holding the broken rickshaw in one hand and the knot of the pallu1 of her saree in another. I peeked from behind her legs and looked into the iron trunk. There were several odd things, broken photo frames and old toys and games that I had once played with and now outgrown.
She took a yellow broken van, and raised it to the window to examine it closely by the sunlight.
"Come," she said.
We hurried to the Chavadi/ hall excitedly. That afternoon as I watched without blinking, Amma removed the wheel from that van and fixed it with a screwdriver to my autorickshaw. She held it before my smiling face -- a rickshaw with all three wheels.
Several years have passed since then. Life has not all been kind. Whenever I feel lost and apprehensive, I close my eyes and the memory of Amma smiling, holding the repaired miniature rickshaw comes before my mind. And out of nowhere a warm gust of peace fills my soul.
(I often wonder what it is about some very ordinary moments in life, that they remain with us forever.)
02. A bittersweet memory
Ofttimes when I look up into the sky
I find it clouded with memories.
Some blinding bright, and others
Only A fading blur. And -
A rainbow arching over the curve
Of a teardrop.
Bits of me break away and
Rush into a stronger wind; and
All that's left of me, is
A bittersweet memory.
Dear readers,
A million thanks for reading Issue #008 of ‘Brief Notes on Life’. You will note that the themes of nostalgia, childhood and old fading memories are explored in this chapter. I am endlessly fascinated on how Time changes us and how sometimes the everyday, ordinary memories of our childhood (& teenage) remain stuck in mind in some cozy place of our sub-conscious. Perhaps (and this is just a pet theory) when we have grown up, become worldly-wise, what is important and valuable is also measured in material terms. Even in terms of what we choose to retain in our mind. For the logical, discriminating mind takes over. If that makes sense.
Share your thoughts and views in the comments section.
You can find the older Issues of Brief Notes on Life here.
Pallu - The loose end of the Saree worn over the shoulders(in a shawl fashion) by women in India.