I miss being a child. I miss the times when everything was the least complicated. I miss the times when I was driven to school, food given to me in a nice orange lunch box and the mere thought of school. Most of all, I miss the fact that I vaguely remember what once was. Elaborating further, I regret the fact that I remember things vividly upon recollection.
Having to come back to India, while I was home I was compelled to begin the tedious task of packing. A two-month long vacation that I once thought would never be over when I first came down in June 2010 and also prior to leaving in April. Now in India, I still remember my first night home – the Nescafe that was not strained and the beef sandwiches which had to be heated in the small frying pan. I remember what I wore, I remember what I did after I came home. I dislike the fact that I can remember all this. However, I do not remember as to how those sixty-plus days came to an end so fast.
I keep telling myself that India is temporary. Given that one year flew without us even realising is just amazing. Like I said, growing up helps keep all the days that you look forward to and dread remembering. Sigh. Life would have been better with a closed economy and oppressed women who weren’t allow the freedom of higher education.