A flower and A memory

Should I consider myself lucky that I remember so many things from my childhood? I probably should. I have a photographic memory and however hard I try, I cannot forget some things. With childhood memories, it works in my favor for I want to cling on to them as long as I am alive. Today’s post is on one such wonderful memory.

As a kid, I loved listening to stories. I used to patiently wait for amma to finish all her tasks for the night, lie down next to me, put her hand on me and begin her story telling session. I don’t know how she had managed to narrate two-three stories every night, very patiently even after a very long day of work. Sometimes, my craze for stories would continue in the morning as well. Amma used to walk along with the sister and me, to school every morning and evening. The road to our school was one filled with a lot of greenery and huge trees on both sides of the road. She used to carry our bags, listening to our non-stop banter during the evening. But mornings, they were reserved for stories. The stories ranged from the one with the oil merchant to the one on Mariyarammana or those that included monkeys or Paramanandayya. The sister used to be bugged by these stories on repeat mode, for as long as I can remember but had to put up with me.

During the few months that these *Persian Silk trees used to be on full bloom, stories would be given a break for  the sister and I used to take our sweet time looking at these flowers on the way back home from school. For every fallen puffy looking flower, we would make Amma wait for us, picking up the flower, arranging in a bunch. This ensued for all the months these flowers were in bloom. I have such fond memories associated with these flowers that I could not stop myself from clicking a few pictures of them, while in Calicut. They carry a very subtle fragrance but that was enough to transport me back to that road on the way to our school, filled with the sweet smell of these flowers in full bloom. These flowers don’t last very long when plucked but as long as they are fresh, I love how those thin silky needles make the flower look puffy. We have played many a games with these flowers, falling in love with the beautifulrose color over and again. *Poovu baavundi kadu maaa* (translated to this flower is so beautiful) is a favorite dialogue and often shared across the sister, amma and me – as said by the sister looking at this flower when she was a little over 2. As I said, this flower holds a special place in my heart.

There are number of such small things that bring out the best childhood memories for me, today it is this flower 🙂 Here are some of  my favorite clicks –

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*I had to google to find out the name of this tree! Silk tree is such a pretty name right?! 🙂


17 thoughts on “A flower and A memory

  1. I would say you are so so sooo lucky to remember the tiniest of this. My memory is short term. I don’t remember a thing from my childhood. I have started forgetting the college memories as well. This short term memory is an inspiration to note down everything in the blog now 🙂

  2. Pingback: Calicut Diaries – Part 3 | From the Editions of Green Boochi

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