THINK PAD

Back to basics

‘To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird’s nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life.’ - John Burroughs.

I’m sitting in the porch, one fine evening, listening to the birds chirp, the leaves rustle and the gentle summer breeze caress the roses. It is evenings like these that take me to someplace Nicholas Sparks would write about.

I call my brothers out; they refuse. I take a deep sigh and close my eyes.  My mind wanders off to my childhood. The ‘good ol’ days,’ as my father calls them. When football was played on an actual ground. When ‘pen pals’ were made rather than ‘friends’ on social media sites. When children rushed to gather around grandmothers for ‘story time’. The time when ‘blind man’s bluff’ and a game of ‘pakrann pakrai’ could turn any old soul into a kid again. The time when the streets echoed with the laughter of a kid who won a round of ludo.

Now, that’s history. Technology has taken control of mankind. I’m not going to ignore all the pros that modern technology has to offer but there has to be some sort of end to that. Why is it that nowadays,  people prefer to ‘text’ the person sitting next to them rather than make the effort to speak those few words? Why do kids these days refrain from going outside and indulging in sports, but can spend endless hours playing on their X-box?

The first rain drop falls. Then the second, and the third. Until I’ve lose count.

I go inside. Turn the power off. After giving some verbal threats I manage to bring my brothers out. They fuss, but eventually forfeit.

 I throw them a ball.

‘What are we supposed to do with this?’ my 12-year-old brother asks.

‘Whatever you want,’ I smile at him.

They both look at each other and grin. Some sort of ‘brother telepathy’, I presume. And I know I’m in trouble. One goes behind and the other stays in front of me, with the ball in his hand, smiling his mischievous smile. I get a hint, ‘sister intuition’, most likely. My 14-year-old brother shouts, ‘Attack!’ And it’s on. I laugh and say, ‘Two versus one, not fair!’ and they play their ‘you’re-older-so-you-count-as-two’ card. And we play a classic game of dodge ball, kick the can and so on. I lose every single game, much to their delight. They high five, yell and laugh out loud. And suddenly it hits me. The perfect combination of nostalgia and déjà vu.

Exhausted and soaking wet, we sit down in the porch. They argue about who played better. I close my eyes again. Smiling. I hear the rain falling, my brothers arguing and joking about how I play like a girl. The birds have stopped chirping, and I can’t hear the wind anymore. In short, the serenity of my perfect evening is gone. We sit there for God knows how long. We hear our mother call: ‘Who wants french fries?’ And they rush inside, pushing each other to get to the prize first. I follow them inside, not far behind. I watch them as they devoured insane amounts of fries all at once.

‘Bet ya, I can eat more fries than you!’ One challenges the other.

‘No way!’ The other smiles in acceptance.

I watch them as they tell mom about their day, again bringing up the unfinished debate over who played better. I smile at them, like a proud sister.