I wanted a space... a space to become the kid that i was and still am, but under the mask of adult that has been thrust upon be in a very uncanny manner.
Memories flash past as i think of those days when there used to be pencil that was sharpened under the careful scrutiny of my Grandma to be neither too sharp nor too blunt and a white paper that was tinted a gentle yellow by the artistic hands of time preserved specially for some of my early alphabets.
It was so much fun to be little enough to sit inside the elder sibling's lunch basket and be the naughtiest child of the home.
The happy rough texture of the huge door that was incidentally rather accidentally a brown dark enough for old chalk's half white to be visible in it even after umpteen erases with the soft old bit of Grandma's saree, that would welcome any visitor with pictures, rather caricatures of all the inmates of the house accompanied by labellings in haphazard letters which were legible enough only for an interested person.
Fights for the only red chair in the class, a tantrum and cry after spilling dad's coffee on my self which i was pacified for rather than being scolded,comfortable short naps midst an old n soft saree or a dhoti that gently smells of naphthalene and sandal,early morning's DD Vandhe matharam followed by a nice popeye show boop..boop.. .......
So much that the kid in me wants to scribble with the Grandma's pencil on the same yellow white paper, far from the critique eye of the world.
To see things just the way i want to and scribble whatever comes by.....
I wanted a space.... and this is it .....Scribbles :D