Nostalgia hides in every nook and corner of my house. As I throw away my cherished books, I remember my school days -the excitement with which I devoured my freshly printed english text books much before the school opened and read them with relish again and again. And every time I read them, the words took flight to become the smells, sounds, words, and people around me.

When a strong wind blows by, I remember the breeze that came through the windows of our newly built classroom ten years ago when I was reading the Non-Detailed Text story of Ruskin Bond’s exploits with his grandpa. I had sworn then that this is how the utopia where Ruskin lived must be!

The same breeze reminds me of my loud guffaws when my classmate expectedly pronouncing “nothing! nothing!” as “noting! noting!” when my teacher was going through another story with us. Sometimes it reminds me of the boring dance and music classes where I fell asleep without fail.

At home, watching the jasmine shrub on the rooftop of the bungalow next door where all creatures great and small sought solace, instantly recreates the experience of “Games at Twilight” by Anita Desai which I came across nine years ago.

In the evening, I gaze languidly at the skyline, spotting a kite or two, reminding me of the story of the Kite Maker. Sometimes, I catch the reruns of “Small Wonder” and remember my dedicated worship at the altar of T.V. from 4.30 p.m. till 6 p.m. watching “Star Trek” (the original one!), “Small Wonder”, and “Batman”.

Nostalgia seeps through even the most unlikely places, in magazines and familiar illustrations from children’s magazines of the old. I have reread almost all the stories from my school english texts, and every time, I get transported to when I was an impressionable young teen. Perhaps, I still am.