Torn Pages of a Time Traveller's diary

I sometimes feel there is another me who lives in the past. Not the past of my life, rather the one which has so conveniently disallowed me from becoming its witness.

"Zindagi kaisi hai paheli haaye..." is playing in the background. Thoughts keep coming and going. They come in waves, hit me and then leave me stranded to feel the repercussions. I am reminded of all the conversations I have had with a lot of older people about the past, their past. These songs triggered the conversations back then. They trigger the thoughts now. 

I am reminded of a conversation with ma on how she managed to sneak away for a movie with papa.Escaping from the eyes of a strict mother in law. Of her talks about the theatres back then, with slowly moving fans and dim Victorian lights.Of the songs she liked, of how she used to tie up her hair and sari like sharmila did, only to be noticed by dad the next day. Of how much she misses those golden days. 

I am reminded of a conversation with a school alumnus on how much he adored Rishi Kapoor's overgrown hair in Bobby.How he managed to survive without a haircut for 2 months and how he ultimately ended up getting his head shaved, as a consequence.

I want to go back in time too. Listen to songs on a gramophone while sipping coffee. Stroll out for a walk and see streets lit with lamps.Get a chance to eat a lot of jalebis for 30 paise. Watch Ramayana with 30 odd kids, in the house of a neighbour rich enough to buy a black and white T.V. Send and receive letters written with fountain pens. Get a radio as a gift and listen to cricket commentary on Akashvani.

I want to relive the past I have never actually lived......