I wanted to talk about something. It was brilliant and enlightening and I conceived of it in those few nano seconds right before you drift off to sleep.
And of course that's where it went.
It's called something, right? That state of mind right before you sleep. Supposedly your creative channel opens up then and you welcome the universe's ideas.
Tricky thing, the channel. It willingly supplies you all those ideas, knowing that you won't remember all that stuff in the morning, try as you might. Or even if you happen to foresee its intentions and lay a notebook and pen by your pillow, you end up scrawling some unintelligible rubbish which you can't decipher or it just sounds way too ridiculous in the daylight.
Well, it's Christmas time. The cubicle which I mostly inhabit (when not wandering about to get circulation in my legs) has been decorated in red and green. Which brings to mind my childhood memories of Christmas, right from the tree to the presents under it and of course the stockings me and my best friend back then, Sandeep used to hang at the foot of the bed. Back then G.I Joes and Relish chocolates were topmost priority on our list.
Of course, the tree got planted outside my window and I think I caught my Mum wrapping the presents. I wasn't as disappointed for myself than for Sandeep. He believed my house was an urban legend for Santa Claus happen to land up only there. (My household has always celebrated the best of all religions)
As time went by, Sandeep drifted away. And my school girl friends and I began having Christmas parties (when we were going through our Disney Princess stage) replete with Bollywood-Kollywood dancing. (Now, that's something that hasn't really changed. The inability to resist a dhinchak song). We exchanged presents and cards and I'm sure we gobbled Mum's lovely cake. (For which I am still in repentance)
Somewhere before that, Christmas used to be visits to St.Thomas Mount (wayyy back when I wasn't the family driver and when my aunt and cousin used to visit). Now that's a beautiful place, as far as I can remember. I'll never be able to shake off the feeling when I gazed at the whole of Madras from the top of the mount. Madras was certainly the most beautiful place on earth.
In the last years of school, I sang along with a youth choir (Soprano, can you believe it? I only croak bass now). Carols by candlelight, choir uniforms, the whole works. Truly Christmasy. I loved being part of it.
Let me get back to trying to recall what it was that was swept away in the current of the Creative Channel (someone put a dam on it) and you have yourself a Merry Christmas!