Memoirs of a memory

The musty smell; cobwebs making wierd patterns on the roof; dust coating everything; and the ever-permeating tingle of age and antiquity - in my head.

Has it ever happened to you, when all of a sudden, your thoughts come from that part of the brain that you haven't seen for a long time? You can almost feel the magic lying like dust on everything. Familiar, long-forgotten sounds leap and grab our throats from once upon a time. Smells and sightings remembered from an age older than history.

It is weird, this room in my head. There are a lot of things here that I didn't know existed. Like that old glimpse of Jayadurga - my first ever crush - lying in that corner over there; the broken image of Herojet - my first cycle - clinking its bells from the other corner; the tattered page of Clucker - the comic strip that I invented long time back - looks about to break apart.

And of course, in the middle of all these souvenirs, lies my own innocence. The part of me that I decided to trade for knowledge, grinning at me knowingly. I think he says, "I told you so!"

I look at him yearningly for a minute. That was me, ten years back, full of hope, of happiness, of love. He is stupid, of course, not knowing there are vipers in cuckoos' nests, not knowing that he can't trust that many people, not knowing puberty, not knowing that twenty is a curious age to be in. Curioser than ten, anyway.

"You are an idiot," I tell him, with more vehemence than I wanted.

"And you are confused!" He says. Again, that knowing smile.

"I know so much!"

"Ignorance is bliss."

"You don't know how wonderful it is to be on the threshold of making it big in the world."

"You keep standing there and you're going to fall off the edge. It is not a threshold. It is a precipice. When was the last time you laughed with tears in your eyes?"

Of course I have laughed. Haven't I?

"See? When was the last time you wanted to DO something? When was the last time you felt you could change the world?"

"I am not a superhero!"

"But I am!"

With that, he turned away, trying to polish that Herojet. The talk ceased. I looked at him for sometime. This guy was seriously mistaken. I know a lot more than he does. I can carry on a conversation with a babe without having my tongue stuck in the roof. He couldn't. I can drive a car. He can't even do a wheelie in his Herojet. I am taller.

Well, this room is not all that fun. I think I will step out. Probably visit some other time, when he has grown up.