Nostalgia

Reading an article in an old magazine about swings, Onam celebration and the good old days of yore set me thinking about my childhood days in the town of Kovilpatti.
I too had a swing(oonjal) , a wooden one. It was just a plank of wood with holes driven into it through which ropes were attached.

Knowing my passion for going up and down on a swing, it was my Dad who had made this tiny plank oonjala for me to regale myself. Its funny how as we grow older, our minds return to those good old days... That tiny plank of wood used to give me untold pleasure and thrill for hours on end.

The swing was fastened to the garage beams and I used to wait for evenings after school to swing on it endlessly. Having had siblings who were years older than me, this swing used to be my respite from boredom and loneliness.

Its amazing how our minds can recall every tiny detail of our childhood. My best friends during those lonesome days used to be the " kuzhiyanas" that used to make tiny mounds out of the sand in my Dad's garage. It used to be such fun watching them make intricate and symmetrical pathways in the sand .
Was I lonely? Never. I had my thoughts to keep me company, my imagination that used to run wild' my swing and of course my " kuzhiyanas".