Memories of June
Editor's note from June 2018
When I think about summer vacation afternoons, memories swim about in my head in slow motion. It is hot and sultry outside and everyone is either at work or napping. The whirring of fans is the only sound you can hear in the house. I’m done reading most of the books I can call my own, so I run my fingers over the others, one spine at a time, where Shakespeare is snugly fitted in with Anaïs Nin in the same row on the shelves. I stop, browse and put her back in quietly. No, no one is looking. I find old family albums, where everyone looks much younger, the pictures are slightly yellow and frayed, fixed in photo corners. I spot a young man, whom I do not recognize, next to my mother at a family picnic. I wonder who he is, and a moment later I’m filled with a rush of guilt. On another afternoon with friends, the inevitable happens: I learn about things that make me wonder if my parents were like other grown-ups too.
We all grew up a little more during our summer holidays each year. It was a little like falling into a pocket where time slowed down and you emerged on the other side, a little less naive. The scent of mangoes, the ringing bell of the ice-cream man and the long days of June from my childhood filter through my senses when summer arrives in Delhi even today. I feel a tinge of joy thinking of the lazy days gone by. I pause and smile: yes, it’s that time of the year again—time to get away, perhaps slow down a bit.
What better time to savour the delight that only our beloved magazine can bring? Let’s all fly away—in body or spirit!