It’s so amazing how a sense of nostalgia is so not a personal thing. Always, someone else’s nostalgia starts off one’s own trip down memory lane, and in no specific chronology of events.
I listened to someone think of old days, and sing the 60s song Paadada paattellam paadavandhal, and what it did to me! I had never listened to that song ever before, but instantly I knew that the original was rendered by PB Srinivas. And that set off a whole string of other things I remembered from when I was little. Some random PB Srinivas song, particularly associated with Calcutta. My guess is Amma and Appa used to listen to it when we were there, because I am able to immediately conjure up my Calcutta living room in my head. The Sivaji-Vyjayantimala song on my amichechan tape that went Nenjil kudi irukum, a song I haven’t listened to since I last played that tape perhaps 15 years ago, whose lyrics I remember even today. Shammi Kapoor’s full throated yahoo and MGR’s swashbuckling heroism on DD. The Liril ad on the tape, and the jingle. Appa’s Abba and BeeGees cassettes. “Raja rajadhi Rajan” from Agni Natshatram, my favourite song as a child. My babbling in the middle of the song in that cassette at home, when I pressed the record button in between. Thatha crooning to me, “Dancing is not hard at all, whether you are big or small. Come and dance with me.” The hand pump that I would have to stop at everyday on my way back from school, and try a hand at. Wading through waist-deep rainwater on Southern Avenue with Mallika Akka. Mallika Akka’s argument with Subhadra on whether the movie star on TV then was Rajesh Khanna or Dev Anand. The sallow skin of my Glo Friends. Ten sets of Memory cards in different colours. The green and white walls at Rukku Athai’s apartment. Watching Aankhen with Ram Anna. The rasagullas he used to give me. Mallika Akka’s roasted-black rings of paavakai. Her black pothi, and my green pothi. The little black moles on her face. The little spots on my Jungle Book tape thanks to overuse. The trees outside Victoria Memorial. Debjani the elephant. Montessori classroom at Sushikshan. Playing Soorpanakha in the class play. Gaurav, Sourav and the little fat girl who played Sita. My ‘Ramayana Illustrated’ book. A tattered set of 12 oil pastels. The Disney colouring book. My favourite pink hairband. That baked hairstyle. Ritika and Ankit. And just so many other things.
Maybe all this comes back to the mind so easily, because the mind wants a chance to think of these things. Maybe because of the realization that I can’t have any of it any longer. Calcutta as it was. The pleasure music used to give me. Childhood and its innocence. Mallika Akka. All I am left with is a dusty faded Glo Friend that doesn’t glow anymore, and a cassette labelled ‘Moni’s Advertisements’ that refuses to be played.
