There they lay, untouched for God-only- knows how long, strung sentimentally in my school red ribbon of yesteryears bringing to my mind innumerable images of childhood -
mother combing my hair every day before I left for school, weaving the bright red ribbon in the hair she so carefully tended to,
packing my lunch that all envied,
the Iyengar Bakery bread that we walked together to buy twice a week near Austin Town, the ice cream from a Brigade Road parlour after we purchased my books for the new academic year every year,
the little girl's kitchen tools from the man with his pushcart on our street in Victoria Layout.
Just how many memories can a string of colourful bangles store?
I remember Mother being very possessive, wanting the bangles back every time I wore them to match my outfit in my teens. Today, these colourful spheres reach out to me like they always did when Mother was there. A size smaller now, for me, I moist my wrist with soap to wrap the colourful misty memories around, somewhat like my heart that struggles to keep the loving memories from breaking the vault of stored sentiments of a distant past.
