The diary game||"Moments Spent in Childhood Memories"

I hope all my friends are well and healthy, by God's grace. I am also doing well. I am @green015 from India.Today, I will share a completely new feeling.

The diary game||"Moments Spent in Childhood Memories"

Human life is akin to that of a bird—here today, somewhere else tomorrow, as if constantly in flight. This ceaselessly rushing, irrepressible life, which may at times seem straightforward, can suddenly veer into a grueling struggle, becoming incredibly arduous. Even when one simply desires to live a normal life, the interplay of various factors—circumstances, the times, one's environment, other people, fate, and personal decisions—often conspires to prevent that from happening. It is incredibly difficult to discern whether this failure stems from destiny's decree, poor decisions, or simply circumstances that—without one even realizing it—entrap one within a web of trials.

We may perceive life as something simple, but in reality, it is anything but. Moreover, even when we set out into the world intending to follow our carefully laid plans, we often find ourselves unable to do so; everything can change in an instant. In essence, we are unable to remain confined within the boundaries we wish to inhabit, yet we struggle to break free from the very boundaries we yearn to escape. Life is, indeed, a difficult game.And so, today I would like to share with you some memories—some moments I have lived through.

It was a Friday. An important phone call came from Palsit early that morning. As I had no time to spare, I had to rush there that very day. Since we used to live in Palsit, Bardhaman, there was a matter regarding the collection of two election-related slips. I got ready in a hurry and set out; by the time I arrived, it was already noon. We proceeded to a designated location, signed the necessary documents, and collected the two slips from the BLO. After chatting for quite a while, we set off for home once again. This was Palsit Station—the very station I used to frequent while completing my college education and commuting to the university and various other places. I have been familiar with this station for nearly six years; our home used to be situated in a village located just three kilometers inland from here. We have since sold that house and moved back to the city we have always known—the place where we lived previously, where I spent my entire school life, and where we are surrounded by our culture, our people, our relatives, and a vibrant community of familiar faces. All in all, the pace of this life is as swift as the flight of a bird.

With the train still a long way off, my brother and I spent a considerable amount of time at the far end of the platform. We ate guavas, and then, shortly before the train was due to arrive, we started walking toward the adjacent platform to cross over. It was then that my eyes fell upon a Khoi tree. And on that small tree hung a scattering of Khoi fruits—a mix of both ripe and unripe ones. Birds had already pecked at some, and quite a few had fallen to the ground. This Khoi tree is thorny, and it holds a special connection to my childhood memories. So, I quickly asked my brother to pluck a few for me. We gathered one ripe fruit and several unripe ones to eat. We used to eat these quite often during our childhood; in fact, they can even be cooked and eaten as a vegetable dish. The fruits, which resemble tiny springs, are quite beautiful to look at—though eating too many of them can lead to stomach aches.

I have always been fond of this particular aspect of Palsit in Bardhaman—the sheer abundance of palm trees and the numerous Khoi trees lining the roadside. However, the locals here do not consume Khoi—or at least, I have never seen anyone eating it. The fruit either goes to waste or is devoured by birds; time and again, I felt the urge to pluck some down. Yet, throughout my six years here, I remained content simply admiring them from afar, never actually gathering any from the trees. Finally, on this very last day, upon spotting a tree right beside the platform, I could no longer contain my emotions. I took a moment to rekindle the spirit of my childhood.

Once ripe, these fruits burst open, spilling out from their husks. Amidst all this, I was busy snapping photographs. Crossing the railway tracks to reach the platform on the opposite side, I extracted the white pulp from inside the Khoi fruits and separated out the seeds. These pristine white Khoi fruits were incredibly sweet; as I placed a piece into my mouth, memories of my childhood came flooding back. It felt as though a fragment of my childhood had, in that moment, completely merged with my very being. Shortly thereafter, at the appointed time, I boarded the train from that platform to head home.

I hope you will like my post very much. I will be back again with a new post later. Until then, everyone stay well. May God keep everyone healthy.

Beneficiary:

@steem-atlas

Best regards:

@green015