Warp me into the past

This post originally appeared on medium.com/@kannarkk before I consolidated my writing here.

It’s 1:17 am and I can’t sleep. All I want to do is go back to the days of school — the days that seem light years behind me. When I close my eyes, I can visualize my feet stomping the muddy path amongst the fields in the pouring rain as I would walk daily to the bus stop to catch my school bus. I can almost smell the petrichor. I can see the raindrops drip down the corners of my umbrella. I can hear the raindrops tip-tap above.I can feel the heaviness of the schoolbag loaded with a pile of textbooks.

When I think of the paddy ready for harvest, I feel like I am back home walking along those paths again. It’s such a relaxing feeling, I can’t explain why it fills me up with so much energy.

Home — such a complex name as I utter it, think it and imagine it, far away, seven seas across. Life goes by there, as though I am not a part of it. How could I ever been a part of it for almost an entire life, and then disappear? When did things get so complex? It feels like just yesterday I was running through the coconut farms and the paddy fields, soaking in the sun, alongside the arecanut trees as I flitted against the wind. It feels like yesterday that I was maintaining my mother’s rose and hibiscus plants.

I can remember ringing the nearby temple bells as I offered my prayers to the deity. I can remember the rush as I climbed up the stone staircase to reach the temple. I can remember the sunlight peeking through the canopy of trees that surrounded the stairs. I can remember as if it was yesterday.

The walk to the town, the conversations with shopkeepers, the crazy bus rides (including the school bus), the splashing water of the flooded roads — a disorder now alien to me. Despite all of it, I realize a lot has passed in between — an eternity to be exact. An eternity captured within a time capsule — one that I would like to enter again. If only I could. The smell of the sun-baked grass, filled with the complexities brought by the travelling wind gives me hope. Albeit tiny, it puts a smile as I push forth myself to the abundant joys of this new day.