Distanced From Feet

      As I was walking up the stairs last night, I actually felt a little distanced from my feet. This distancing is important so that I don’t feel like a fraud, and its proof of having grown up.

In my early childhood I was rather prone to falling, usually to my knees. If rocks are really dust and if dust is our final destiny and since I fell on the so many rocks that lay in my path, it makes me feel like all that falling was really a subconscious desire to pray. 

But much before all of that. My two earliest memories. My sister and I playing with small plastic yellow cups. There were grown-ups around us sitting in chairs and sofas and we were on the ground and she said, “I said, hurry up!”. The other memory is that of me being where my grandparents used to live. I was in my aunt’s room where my mother asked me to eat something that she introduced as “bitter tea” using a mixture of Bengali and Hindi. We all need a little bitter tea in our lives.