Surprisingly enough, it's newspaper articles, set among two pages of tenders and quotes that make a person realize how old a soul they really are. It's in the one word monologue of old & new movies that let them know they will stay true to their country forever. And then, it's in the yellowed pages of library books about to be thrown out that you finally learn the true definition of hope.

I still want a maruti 800 over any other new car in the market (excluding the Camaro. Who doesn't want a Camaro?). Nano's and VW's Bug aside, the maruti strikes me as the perfect vehicle. Smart, efficient and let's face it, you won't be getting that bad a lecture if you break a headlight or two.

It hurt somewhere, really hard when they announced they won't be manufacturing the Bajaj scooters any more. I spent so many of my formative years on the back of my dad's scooter, that it felt like Bajaj simply took away that simple pleasure from so many generations of kids to come.

Watching Awara and Swades makes me cry, every single time. And even though I'm not out of the country, they pull at my heart so much that I feel like launching into every single social service initiative there is. Even when two of them take up all the time I can afford.

And then, while still cross at people who throw out books just because their pages are frail and crinkly around the edges, you look at a mirror. Not just any other mirror, mind you. One that is as much human as you'll ever be and reflects every single movement while staring deep into your eyes. And for the first time, your own aura bounces back at you, making you reel with a mix of emotions so pure, that you feel like crying, laughing, dancing at the same time.

You're an old soul, attached to notions that lived well before your time and people you'll only ever imagine. I am a silly, somewhat bumbling soul too, running back into time when others simply forge ahead.

All for a glorious memory of a memory.

Signing Out,
Old & Eccentric


Sugar Magnolia said...

Ah, another one. Soon, we should get a cup of coffee and reminisce about the times that were. =)

Sherry Wasandi said...

Old books, frayed at the edges. Hand-made paper that turns to papyrus, fountain pens with black ink, handwritten letters over emails(with the crossings and commissions having much meaning behind them... almost as much as the handwriting.

Pressed flowers, sepia photographs on paper(not digital), old pieces of clothing that don't fit anymore, but will forever be archived in the wardrobe. Gifts and even the wrappings they came in. Old notebooks from school with scribbles and doodles. And so on...

The fact that I don't recognize the hand-writing of people I write to ever so often, makes my heart ache. A lot.

Anty said...

Sherry, my next post will be a scanned one.

Written by hand :)

Sherry Wasandi said...

I wanted to ask you and Deboleena to do that, but stopped myself!

I'd love you for it, apart from the various other reasons I have.

Anty said...

Aah, no problems! It's been too long since I saw my own handwriting anyway :)