Flashlight memories

Don't you miss someone when they are gone and you realize how much you depended on them. But until they are gone you find so many faults in them that one would think you would rather not keep in touch with them. I am talking about my laptop (in case anyone was getting any other ideas). Its one of the best love-hate relationships I have had for a longest time now. I was happy for a time when I got a Mac, but now that's gone, & with no real hope of getting another one, I am forever in this limbo of "I hate you, but please don't leave me" mode.

So my PC crashed and I was out of it for more than a week. In the meantime, I was loaned an old rickety one, but that meant slow everything! Horrors of all, I lost all the saved URLs and could not keep in touch with blog friends, (yes I should sign up for a reader, but am too lazy to bother, if you haven't noticed yet that is). On the other hand life moved on, my work load piled as I was out of my PC (yes saying it again) and with two colleagues out on vacation I have additional backing up responsibilities. So in the interest of keeping my blogging up, here's something that I had written in 2002 for my speech class, that I found over the weekend while cleaning up - posting it here for posterity! Enjoy!

---

Back during the school years, we had the shift system in Mumbai - primary school was in the afternoons while secondary from 5th through 10th in the mornings (7 through 1PM). Pre-primary or nursery was probably the best times for kids from around 10 to 12. One of the episodes that I still remember vividly occurred while I was still in nursery ...


Coming home from schools, on sunny afternoons had special meaning to my little heart. Amma used to pick us up from nursery and once home a nice hot, delicious lunch was always ready. After a quick nap and a few hours of studies it would be time to play. All my friends would gather at the playground and decide what we were going to do that day. It would be fun, filled with laughter and fights.

But on afternoon my playtime would end. I fell down the stairs, in an attempt to 'catch' my best friend. The incident occurred when the two of us were running up and down our apartment stairs playing catch, while my mom was talking with her's at their doorstep. All I got was a piece of red frock she was wearing and then I tumbled down just and broke my arm. My cries brought Amma running to me and she took me home - she put some Iodex and checked my arm when she realized that it was possibly broken - since it looked twisted. Those were the days when only a few houses had a telephone and cars, plus only a few of the people were at home since it was a working day. She called on one of the elderly couple who had a phone too and asked them if they could call my dad and let him know. The kind uncle not only did the same, he accompanied Amma to the nearby hospital. I don't remember much of that day, as I was most of time
in pain, crying and hungry. I must have dozed into sleep often and once when I woke up it smelt like like an aftermath of fire - everything around me was white tiles and people in white as well (I have hated that color since then). Amma later told me, that she was moved around quite a bit in trying to get to meet with a doctor to check me up - the lines long and day melted away in the throngs of people and noise. The only two other things that I can remember from that day, was being seated in a little park area and seeing my dad walk in, I was very happy to see him - Daddy's girl that I was! :) Another piece that stayed in mind was the ride home, late at night and a few visitors that came by to check up on me (I guess the news had spread by then).

Over the next few days I realized what the doctors visit meant in reality - I could not move my right arm. I could not even see it. My fingers were sticking out of a white plaster around my arm (put to straighten my arm, which was broken). In the days that followed, I could not play, write or even wear my dresses properly. The right arm of the dress would be hanging down since I could not put my arm through it. I was ashamed to go out like that. What would my friends think?

On the other hand, I skipped school, no proper baths and was hand-fed from amma for all meals. It often used to itch, but with the plaster around - nothing could be done. The plaster came off only after a month of tantrums and possible hardships my parents - Amma had to visit one of my school friends and copy all the classwork & homework, so that I wasn't left behind when I rejoined.

But I was finally happy. I could wear my dress, play and even write again. To my little heart it was a great achievement indeed!