It intrigued us to watch a whirlwind dance and dash. We would run after it as it ran from us. We clapped and laughed, thinking the devil was afraid of us. It happened that way every time. That day, the devil took a vicious turn and in a moment engulfed my childhood. I travelled years in months. Now, whirlwinds gather my past and run after me. The memories of my beloved parents, my playmates, my cat, and my house spin around me. And I feel lifted to a height where all desires and doubts appear no more than weeny worms.
Sivan Pillai
3/7/2020 08:41:44 am
A well-crafted nostalgia.
Paritosh Chandra Dugar
3/7/2020 10:33:46 am
Thank you, Sivan.
Paritosh Chandra Dugar
3/7/2020 01:27:16 pm
Thanks for your comment, Don.
Swapan k Banerjee
3/7/2020 01:56:58 pm
Your prose is not exactly purple, Paritosh; and yet it's alliterative, layered and musical. You remind me of Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust.
Paritosh Chandra Dugar
3/7/2020 06:46:57 pm
Thank you for your kind words, Swapan.
Ed N. White
3/7/2020 02:43:25 pm
A wonderful empathetic story. Very nice.
Paritosh Chandra Dugar
3/7/2020 06:49:34 pm
Thank you, Ed, for your compliment.
Sue Clayton
4/7/2020 04:36:08 am
Nature robs a boy or girl of their childhood leaving nothing but memories and a whirlwind of grief. You captured the loss brilliantly, Paritosh.
Paritosh Chandra Dugar
5/7/2020 08:23:21 am
Thank you, Sue. I appreciate the compliment. Comments are closed.
|
"Classic"
|