The Many Hues of Pleasure

         On days when the blues threaten to beset me, I uncap my bottle of memories and like an exotic perfume, a whiff of the happy past lifts my spirits and my world seems brighter again.

          My first pleasant memory is of lying with my head on my mothers's lap when I was about three, lulled to sleep by the buzz of adult conversation. Oh, to be back in that warm cocoon of security and love, when it seemed nothing would ever go wrong in my little world. Happiness was a picnic in the zoo with my cousins from all across the world, a day of elephant rides, candy floss, blue skies and rolling in the green grass. The first hailstorm I experienced and the taste of the icy pellets melting in my warm mouth. A cup of my mother's famous hot chocolate, the warm smooth liquid slowly making its way down my throat.

           Happy school days, best friends, girlie-talk. Bicycle rides down empty roads with the wind in my face. Discovering the world of books, Enid Blytons, William, Raold Dahl. Making my acquaintance with the tall, dark stranger in the world of Mills and Boon. The first grown-up books I read, Gone With The Wind, Rebecca, The Thornbirds. The warm tingle whenever I thought of the neighbourhood Adonis. My crushes at various points of my life, when it seemed love was just around the corner. How soon we grow up, for soon I was in college. The heady feeling of independence when I realized how easy it was to bunk classes. The wonder of falling in love for the first time. Stolen glances, holding hands and slipping away from the crowd are the stuff of perfect memories.

          A thunderstorm I remember, a flock of white birds juxtaposed against the suddenly dark skies, the icy gusts of wind, the rippling waters of a pond and the smell of wet earth after a hot Indian summer.

          Swept along by the inexorable passage of time, I am now a young adult. The wondrous occasion of meeting my husband for the first time and knowing he was the one. The thrill of setting up house and the hilarious misadventures the pair of us had. Oh,the truimph of baking my first perfect cake, hosting a fabulous party. Some pages of life shine bright, untarnished by time. The first salary I received and buying a gift for the better half, And then the greatest gift of all, eight pounds of love with the brightest button eyes I have ever seen. So many milestones, the first word, the first step. The bittersweet memories of the first day of school.

          The small things in life remain etched in memory. A rare occasion when the husband served me breakfast in bed, sunny eggs, crisp slices of bacon and cool orange juice. The day I got my doggie home, all of six weeks old. Going on a long drive. A perfect cup of Darjeeling tea, savoured in solitude. An  A.R.Rahman melody that made me feel I could dance. Discovering the poetry of Sara Teasdale.

          My first glimpse of London and standing in the swirling snow in Switzerland. A cruise on the river Siene  when Paris seemed to be out of a fairytale.A 4-D show in Disneyland.

          And today, the pleasure of picking up the pen after such a long interlude and the thought that my words may bring a smile to your lips. What is unhappiness when we have this greatest gift of all, recollection of love, joy and triumph in this beautiful world.