Perhaps this is a mixture of sleepiness (I caught the 6 am bus again) & tiredness talking, but I have a sudden longing to visit a musty museum.
You're probably thinking "Whaaaaa ??"
I can't explain why myself. I can actually see the kind of place I want to visit, in my mind's eye. It is an inherently dark place, lit by yellow bulbs throwing the same light as those old ones on local trains in Mumbai. The showcases are all wood with a faintly gleaming cherry hue. It is neither cool nor hot in the museum. Just very quiet. I'm the only one there, although I imagine the curator is pottering around somewhere. The room I'd ideally like to be in is the one covering Ancient Egypt. I want to slowly read through the interesting stories and take in every detail of the impassive royal faces, losing myself in the moment. Letting history wash over me.
Once again, without explanations, this yearning is replaced by a memory. I'm in school and the exams are on. Back when the room used to be mine (I'm a resident guest in my house now, so I have a home but no room) there used to be a well-stocked bookshelf in it. I can see the books, some worn out and others stacked in an order only I could make sense of. Because I have to study for exams, the books have taken on an added allure. You know this feeling no, reader?. I lock the door quietly, take out a random Famous Five book and start reading. I know that I'm too old to appreciate the plots any more but am being driven by some strange mixture of loss and need to vicariously live the lives of the characters. I go from Blyton to Hardy Boys to Tintin to every Amar Chitra Katha book I can find. 4 hours later, I arrange the books back quietly and saunter into the living room, tired by my continuous 'study'. Reading books on the sly happened to me right till I went to college. After that...
I don't miss childhood. I miss the child I was. Know what I mean ?
You're probably thinking "Whaaaaa ??"
I can't explain why myself. I can actually see the kind of place I want to visit, in my mind's eye. It is an inherently dark place, lit by yellow bulbs throwing the same light as those old ones on local trains in Mumbai. The showcases are all wood with a faintly gleaming cherry hue. It is neither cool nor hot in the museum. Just very quiet. I'm the only one there, although I imagine the curator is pottering around somewhere. The room I'd ideally like to be in is the one covering Ancient Egypt. I want to slowly read through the interesting stories and take in every detail of the impassive royal faces, losing myself in the moment. Letting history wash over me.
Once again, without explanations, this yearning is replaced by a memory. I'm in school and the exams are on. Back when the room used to be mine (I'm a resident guest in my house now, so I have a home but no room) there used to be a well-stocked bookshelf in it. I can see the books, some worn out and others stacked in an order only I could make sense of. Because I have to study for exams, the books have taken on an added allure. You know this feeling no, reader?. I lock the door quietly, take out a random Famous Five book and start reading. I know that I'm too old to appreciate the plots any more but am being driven by some strange mixture of loss and need to vicariously live the lives of the characters. I go from Blyton to Hardy Boys to Tintin to every Amar Chitra Katha book I can find. 4 hours later, I arrange the books back quietly and saunter into the living room, tired by my continuous 'study'. Reading books on the sly happened to me right till I went to college. After that...
I don't miss childhood. I miss the child I was. Know what I mean ?
Song for the moment: Cloudy - Simon & Garfunkel
(Okay, so this is a self-indulgent post. I need a vacation.)
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