half a century

Haven't blogged for a while, and as I sat down today to blog, I thought I'd name it "9 times" ... based on Cliff Richard's song:
9 times out of ten I tried to kiss you
And I even tried just 9 times again
But for every 9 times that I miss you
Baby I'll get you on number 10

... something like that ... corny... not sure that I remember the lyrics correctly and am too lazy to check them out. The reason that this song happened to be on my mind was because I'd just tried to log on to the office network about 9 times ... and i decided I'd leave the 10th attempt for later.

Then, as I logged on to blogger, I realized that this was to be my 50th post. A mile stone of sorts if you care for that sort of stuff ... I don't particularly ... but then, I had screamed on my 32nd ... so why not on the 50th. Actually, it brought to the forefront a thought that I have been having on and off ... whether I'd like to pass my blog on to someone down the line ... whether it makes sense to do so ... the thought was, half a century later (though I doubt I have that many years left in me), if I was still writing here, it would perhaps be time to look for an heir .. heiress perhaps :)

Otherwise, a typical saturday here. Trying hard to catch up on sleep that I have missed during the week, staying a few extra hours with parents since they will soon be heading home again.

December ... winter ... I try not to think about it. Clear blue skies, sunny days, but with a chill in the air.
As a kid, winter was a time of mixed emotions. Generally, our school would get over on the 1st of December or thereabouts, at 11:30 in the morning, after the last exam of the final term, for a full 3 months. The school didn't reopen till after holi in March generally. So, there was the happiness associated with not having to go to school for all of 3 months ... and not having to study ... but it also meant not seeing or hearing from your friends for that much time. Somehow, that was a little bothersome ... in a poignant sort of way. I never was certain, and am not, even today, if the nip in the air was the only thing that made the last day of school feel the way it did.

On the other hand, for me, almost every year, it also meant that I would be travelling to wherever dad happened to be living at the time ... so I would come back home to a house that was being prepared for a 3 month lock down ... throw all the stuff that can rot ... cover anything that can get dusty ... close the windows ... pack your bags ... sometimes dad would be there to take us, and sometimes we would travel alone .. as in my mom, brother and myself.

I miss that yearly pilgrimage. I miss those 3 months of carefree fun, when I could play as much as I wanted, and read as much as I could lay my hands on (yes I was a bookworm ... anything and everything in the library would get devoured) ... I miss that opportunity to rediscover one self, to rejuvenate ... and to simply live.

Life was a lot less complicated then. We did not know that anything could hurt more than a scraped knee. We did not know any pain more than a game lost. Not for ourselves, nor for those around us.

Pain isolates people. When you are in pain, all the empathy and sympathy just help you realize just how alone you are in your pain. And so much so, that even if a pain revisits ... as in even if you are pained by a similar set of circumstances, having known the pain does not help you come any closer to alleviating it.

So then, here is to pain, and our understanding of it .. and a little cliched perhaps, but to our childhood, and to innocence lost :)