Bonds to Cherish

It is possible that in the tumultuous lives that we all live, so full of twist and turns and not so happy endings, we may lose sight of who we are and what we are. These are the times that we truly question ourselves aren’t they. I am not here to lecture on what we ought to do and or suggest ways to cope with things that I have no idea of. But I can safely say that in thee difficult times it is our friends and family that keeps us together. That keeps us from falling into pieces. These are the people who have feed you those memories whose hand we take when the going gets tough; they have given us days by which we can swear that the times were better.

There are many bonds in life that are far too valuable to be neglected. The bonds those are inexpensive yet invaluable. The bonds that make you want to strive to be a better person every second of every hour of every day. In life we seldom comes across people that stick for the long, some become your wife, others become your best buddies and sometimes we are blessed with blood relations that are the best in the world. Sometimes we get brothers who would die by you and parents who would swear by you, not always but yet sometimes they do happen. Even for the less fortunate ones among us we get to be with friends who are just as intimate as a relation, if not more.

I myself has been lucky, for I have not found just one, but a bunch of them. In fact I have found half a dozen of them in my college life. I consider myself far too lucky in this regard. One among them became the person with whom I have decided to share the rest of my farting and the not so better part of myself with. The others would hitherto be my best men and women for the rest of life, godfathers and god mothers for the my, sorry, our children. Uncles and aunts who they will adore , the kind I will have a hard time preventing from spoiling my children.

When I walked up the stairs of this building with hardly a small back pack and an half-filled pen, with dreams that were taller that the tallest skyscrapers. I for one did not see this coming. I did not believe that I would be making buddies that will last a life time. But I made a bunch. I did not believe in love, yet I found the perfect girl. I had reservations for my future, yet it has never ever looked so promising. For what it’s been worth , The time I spend with my friends , squalling and trashing, fighting and abusing, loving and caring, looking out for one another and not. Those endless hours I have spent in there company gossiping. The insidious love and the improper infidelity. These were the best days of my life.

Great moments are born from great opportunity. That's what you have here, tonight, boys. That's what you've earned here tonight

I remember this quote today, because four years back I was presented with a great opportunity , an opportunity to make friends with best and most amazing individuals in the world, and thank god you made me grab it and make  great memories of them.

Memoirs of another Era

To the eyes of a two year me, life was rater different from what it is now. It was full of magic and everything was a kaleidoscopic in its own nature. I have no real memory but rather flashes of it, vestiges of a memorable time popping up like bubbles in a champagne glass. These are not memories that I can make any sense of but are rather distinctive and certainly not very descriptive in nature. I don’t remember all of them ( I was just a couple of years old, my brain was still finding places to keep stuff and had other serious problems like food and potty to bother about) but I do remember a few of them and of course one of them has a lot to do with braids.

When I started thinking about braids and what the to write about them, frankly I was turning blank, with the very little hair that I myself has that was no surprise. That’s when I realized that I should stop being a stupid narcissist and concentrate along another lines. I donned my thinking hat on and started thinking what thoughts braids inspire in me. One thought, rather one memory stood out of all. It was that of a two year old me, the hazy vision of the dangling braids all in sepia like in any good flashback from a beloved part of my life. I could see through the baby eyes of mine the life that was in and around me.

The first of the visions that I remember has my mother’s face in it, much younger and with much less wrinkles, so much younger and carefree than I ever remember her. I could faintly hear her smiles as she cajoled me. I could feel the delight in her giggles as I hung on to her braids and carried out various scientific experiments on like, biting, tasting, pulling and what not. I can remember the cries of utter delight that I let out and the immediate effect it has on my mother’s face. I remember watching the smile that reciprocate on her face, her eyes lighting up as if she was beholding something miraculous n her hands. Something that only a mother can feel for her son I guess.

Every one of my memories of my grandmother has something to do with braids. I have seen beautiful pictures of my ravishingly beautiful grandmother at my home. She had a very long braid, so beautiful were they, But that not the one that I remember. By the time I was born she had lost the blackness of her hair and her braids were no longer that strong but I can say that they would put most girls to shame. I remember I her braids, much before she lost it to old age and its ailments. It was like a silver thread, so beautiful; I can even remember seeing them shine brightly in the sunlight. The little me was so fascinated by the games her braids would play with the light, I would try chasing it, jumping on it and everything else I was capable of them.

I don’t know whether I could go on and say that braids has done a lot to my childhood, or that it played an important part in my younger years. But I can say this that though I have no braids, braids have featured in some the most cherished of my childhood memories. My memory of my mother when I was little was one the most beautiful memories that I have of my mother, a personal favorite, one among the very few where I remember her as carefree and elated. Huh! Memories sometimes that is all that we may have for ourselves. My only wish is that these memories be real and not just a product of my runaway imagination.

Story written for : Beautiful Ends to your Beautiful Braids!