Sathyakama Sharma

Memories Intact in the Innards of Time When boys pass thoroughfares for playgrounds, balls pass unsuspecting heads for wickets. It was one such ball that hit my head, triggering a volley of vignettes. Vignettes of memories lying intact in the innards of time. Memories of a childhood that ran riot over a vast landscape dotted with areca nut trees, jackfruit trees, few mango trees, guava trees including several nameless ones…names we never bothered to check, that is. For me, that was the place where Pandavas were trained in archery…or Rama and Sita endured their Vanavasa.  I mean that’s how I visualized every scene in Mahabharata, Ramayana, other epics, stories and fairy tales. It was an assortment gifted by Mother Nature, wrapped in greenery that would turn the kids of this concrete jungle green with envy!  We were privileged to live in one of the handful of independent houses ( to draw a parlance from the realty trade in Bengaluru!) in a vast compound in Kasarago...