through a window...

when i was about 8 or 9 - i was out for an after-dinner walk with some adult from the household (i don't really remember who any more) one night. just a short walk along the familiar streets of the neighborhood, or para, as we called it in our langauge. back in those days, it was a safe neighborhood. the nights were pleasant. there weren't hundreds of rickshaws on the streets jostling for space. life was different in my old city back then. normal. decent.

our little residential lane emptied on to a street where - if you went right, it would take you straight to my school and if you went left would take you straight to what we called mouchak market (a shopping mall much frequented by my mid 20s aunts) perhaps one of very few shopping malls in the city at the time.

just at that intersection, across from our lane was a small two story house with whitewashed exterior. although we knew most of the families in the neighborhood, this house was relatively new and we did not know who lived in it. to me that house was a mystery. and it intrigued me. whenever we passed by it (which was pretty much every time we went out), i would look at it. perhaps i was trying to see if there were any kids who lived there - kids my age. i don't really know the reason for my curiosity. on all those previous occasions, i saw nothing of note.

on this particular night though, i looked up and saw that the second story window looking onto the street was open - the curtains drawn apart. in the room a ceiling fan was spinning at high speed and there was a desk kitty corner from the window (towards the inside of the house, not the street). there was someone sitting at the desk - their back to the window. a boy who in my fertile mind i deemed to be my age although i had no real way of telling how old he was. he was wearing a crisp white punjabi (i could only a third of his upper body). his head was lowered as if he was working hard at some maths problem - an assignment due the next day perhaps. somehow this everyday image got burned into my mind. to this day i can see it as clear as if it was yesterday. a boy studying at his desk. i don't know what it is about that image but it touched me. i can only guess why i was so drawn to that boy's world ... because it appeared so foreign. i wanted that world. i wanted that quiet peace of a rapidly spinning ceiling fan. the fluttering curtain at the window. the desk where he studied. the crisp white deshi style pjs. i wanted that life. i wanted that routine. suddenly - out of the blue and for no rhyme or reason - i wanted to be that boy. whoever he was. to this day, i can reach into my mind and touch that feeling.