"Lost in the Past" takes me back to sweltering summers in an Asian household, where power cuts were an unannounced ritual and survival meant finding comfort in the simplest things. The old table fan hummed tirelessly, but on nights without electricity, we turned to handheld fans, waving them in sync while sharing stories in candlelight. A red radio crackled with Bollywood tunes, its melodies filling the humid air. The rotary phone sat untouched, waiting for the lines to come back. Fresh mangoes and watermelon offered a sweet escape, and a steaming cup of chai never lost its place, even in the heat. Those evenings, though inconvenient, were filled with laughter, resilience, and a slowness I now long for.
And then, there were the childhood games. Hours of playing Snakes and Ladders on the cracked floor, the dice rolling over uneven edges, causing both cheers of triumph and groans of defeat. Tippi Tippi Top What Color you Want? , a simple game of spinning and twisting hands, where we picked colors, assigning each shade to a specific feeling or idea, just to pass time under the relentless sun. our palms meeting in a rhythmic dance, all while we hummed to songs we had memorized from the old cassette tapes.
As soon as the sun dipped behind the horizon, the lure of Frooti, its sweet, tangy taste a relief from the heat, would dominate our thoughts. In the market, there was always the temptation of Eclairs, Kismi, and Popins, those candies that never failed to deliver a quick sugar rush. How they would melt on our tongues, each bite a short-lived delight before we ran off to play once more.
Even the simple things had their own nostalgia—remember the old Natraj geometry box? The distinct smell of freshly sharpened Natraj pencils would flood my senses, the wooden fragrance so familiar. We would draw imaginary worlds on plain notebooks, giving life to stories that had yet to be told. Then, there was the undeniable charm of the Super Mario computer games, pixelated characters jumping across our screens, a world where we could be heroes with just a joystick in hand.
Diwali, the festival of lights, brought a burst of magic. The sounds of crackers, the sparkling diyas lighting up our balconies, the warmth of a dholi beating in the background as families danced in the streets, all brought a sense of togetherness. The air would fill with the aroma of gajar ka halwa, the golden hue of fried snacks, and the vibrant red and gold of new clothes. It was in those moments, with the flicker of candlelight, the sound of laughter, and the warmth of family, that I understood what it meant to find joy in simple pleasures.
Those days, untouched by modernity, feel like a world I’ve lost. Yet, they remain, alive in my memories, reminding me of a time when time itself seemed slower, gentler, and full of endless possibilities.
