Deep down the trenches of memories when you rush to assemble things and events and memories that can be called as memorable ones, one scramble to arrange them or give them ratings, as there will always be quite a few ones to find. Memorable events need not have to be recalled or thinked over, they must just crop up in your mind whenever you try to recall them, how can you call a memory a memorable one if you have to search for it. I have had my bit of such memories and being a sentimental person, i have quite many of those, a friend of mine recently gave a very good testimonial in his unique style of one liners. He wrote, ” i am a fan of this emotional fool..”, how spot on he was!!!
Whenever, i recall these smaller events and memories, one story that comes rushing to my mind is of my kid. He was around 3 years old then, barely learning to talk, he had some kind of fever and was admitted for a week in hospital. We were very tensed for obvious reasons, as despite all medications his fever was showing no signs of leaving him. He was on sedative the whole day and had woken up at around 1.30 am in the night. The earlier morning, i had damaged my right thumb and it was bleeding profusely, i had bandaged it. My kid woked up, his tiny hands still had needles of those glucose water dripping in. I sat near my kid took him on my lap and chatted with him. In a very weak tone the first question my kid asked “pappa tumcha bot bara zala ka…” (dad has your thumb recovered…). Here was my child in midst of a very severe illness caring & inquiring about my injury. I was dumbstruck and was not knowing how to react. I embraced him and kissed him wildly that moment.
Such small events make up your life meaningful. Time seem to stop at such time and these events become very very special in your life.
Another such memory dates back to some 15 years ago, Those were very difficult times, and finding a job was utmost in my priority list, my dad was very sick and bed ridden and i had given this government written exam some six months ago then. I was told that the results would be out in a week’s period. I reached army and navy building near J.J.Art Gallery and there i saw a very big bulletin board full of roll numbers, a total one thousand of them. There were total one thousand vacancies for which eleven lakh candidates had appeared for that competitive exam. Somehow, i had the confidence and the hope that somewhere my name would surely appear. For, the name appearing in that list would have ensured a guaranteed government job. I scampered my way through the wooden steps on the second floor of that old dilapidated building. Frantically searched the number, i searched my roll number in chronological manner and what a sorry state of mind i was in, my number was not there in the list. Oh!! my luck, what answer i was to give to my father who was expecting heavens.. Sad faced with hell lot of questions, i started my journey way back to my home. I reached around Hutatma Chowk and some inner feeling told me to have a re-look at the list, somewhere deep down i was sure, that i was not going to fail. I made the second journey to that building, the journey was swifter one this time, carefully i searched each and every number, and bingo!!! here i was, my number was there, later i noted a small line in the bottom that the roll numbers printed were in order of merit, i had been ranked 428 in eleven lakh students. My joy that day knew no bounds, as i went inside the office to inquire about future course of action, the staff there too were elated to note that i was ranked so close. They told me just relax and chill, a call letter will reach you to join for government job. That day the return journey back home was the shortest one.. for i was literally running to break this good news. No we had no access to phone in those days. On reaching Dombivli, i brought some sweets and went to my dad to inform him that “baba me pass zalo…”, the first thing my dad did was fold his hands and looking towards the photo of god above him, i saw tears rolling down from my dad’s eyes… he uttered “… me marayla mokla zalo…” . My dad kept his words…. in May on 26, he left us, and i got the job the following month in June. The only good thing was that my dad knew that his son would be in government service very soon.
Some memories freshen up your wounds, some bring in tears, some others make your joys, but in totality all these memories add the required spice to your life, spice without which your life would be so incomplete.