More than Ten winters ago,I remember sitting on the hood of a shiny red Maruti 800.
I sat there,wearing a very pretty brown dress and a mob of very short hair.
Beside me,sat a girl I had just befriended...I had fallen in love with her at first sight.
As a little girl,she fascinated me...Her smokey green eyes,with tiny,scattered specs of brown.
Her skin as pale as milk..Her hair the colour of honey.
I always noticed things too much in detail,even as a kid.
Sitting there,on the hood,on a cold winters' night,we had a very animated conversation,frost emerging from our mouths,as we spoke.
I remember realising that we were almost the same age,my new friend and I.
And I remember being infinitely Happy.
The kind of Happiness you get when the smell of the rains first hits you.. or when you realise that the sand of the Desert feels like fine silk running through your fingers.
The kind of happiness that is beyond words and descriptions.
The kind that makes one's childhood appear brighter than it probably was.
I long for it sometimes,the bittersweet tinge of infinite happiness in these dark days is probably too much to ask for,though.
Yet,I want to feel infinite again. I want to live my silly childhood dreams.Become a ballerina,perhaps.
This post seems to be going into the infinity of randomness,so I shall stop now.
I sat there,wearing a very pretty brown dress and a mob of very short hair.
Beside me,sat a girl I had just befriended...I had fallen in love with her at first sight.
As a little girl,she fascinated me...Her smokey green eyes,with tiny,scattered specs of brown.
Her skin as pale as milk..Her hair the colour of honey.
I always noticed things too much in detail,even as a kid.
Sitting there,on the hood,on a cold winters' night,we had a very animated conversation,frost emerging from our mouths,as we spoke.
I remember realising that we were almost the same age,my new friend and I.
And I remember being infinitely Happy.
The kind of Happiness you get when the smell of the rains first hits you.. or when you realise that the sand of the Desert feels like fine silk running through your fingers.
The kind of happiness that is beyond words and descriptions.
The kind that makes one's childhood appear brighter than it probably was.
I long for it sometimes,the bittersweet tinge of infinite happiness in these dark days is probably too much to ask for,though.
Yet,I want to feel infinite again. I want to live my silly childhood dreams.Become a ballerina,perhaps.
This post seems to be going into the infinity of randomness,so I shall stop now.
| Ballerinas,indeed. |
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