The feeling is familiar
With the aroma of ginger and cardamom in the air
And the tunes of good old bollywood melodies
Between the occasional sips of the hot tea
Its aroma filling the room with whiffs of nostalgia
Accentuated by the melodies of kishore kumar
the mind begins to drift
To the not to distant past
What a strangely peculiar emotion nostalgia is
How easily a melody takes you down to the memory lane
To the days of youthful banter
The afternoon siestas on the hammock
Swinging under the neem tree
And the ground laden with leaves, fallen and dry
The kite flying season when we chased the kites cut loose
Over the hill into the wilderness
The bike rides drenched in rain
A free spirit peddling through wind and rain
Through the slopes and turns of the aravali hills
The journey would circle around the fatehsagar lake
Setlled like a mirror between the blue sky and
The hills of moti magri, stopping at the paal in the midway
And then off to rani road or neemach mata
Those were the days that was the time
The memories suddenly begin to fade
As I hear a familiar complaining cry
I turn around and tia greets me with complain
How dare you rustle under the warm sheets of the past
I could see her innocent eyes asking me this...
And just like that, snap
The feeling was familiar
The scent in the air diffused and evaporated
And with it the kites and rain disappeared
I looked into my cup and could see the last remnants
Of the tea, the music became dull
And cries of tia became louder
It was time to let go of the feeling
With the aroma of ginger and cardamom in the air
And the tunes of good old bollywood melodies
Between the occasional sips of the hot tea
Its aroma filling the room with whiffs of nostalgia
Accentuated by the melodies of kishore kumar
the mind begins to drift
To the not to distant past
What a strangely peculiar emotion nostalgia is
How easily a melody takes you down to the memory lane
To the days of youthful banter
The afternoon siestas on the hammock
Swinging under the neem tree
And the ground laden with leaves, fallen and dry
The kite flying season when we chased the kites cut loose
Over the hill into the wilderness
The bike rides drenched in rain
A free spirit peddling through wind and rain
Through the slopes and turns of the aravali hills
The journey would circle around the fatehsagar lake
Setlled like a mirror between the blue sky and
The hills of moti magri, stopping at the paal in the midway
And then off to rani road or neemach mata
Those were the days that was the time
The memories suddenly begin to fade
As I hear a familiar complaining cry
I turn around and tia greets me with complain
How dare you rustle under the warm sheets of the past
I could see her innocent eyes asking me this...
And just like that, snap
The feeling was familiar
The scent in the air diffused and evaporated
And with it the kites and rain disappeared
I looked into my cup and could see the last remnants
Of the tea, the music became dull
And cries of tia became louder
It was time to let go of the feeling
