What could be the youngest thought a person can have? Ever imagined that. Sometimes we see ourselves, as that little baby in a cradle or in a porch or park, where the sun shines on our round cute cheeks, with breeze so tender, as never felt till date, or as a baby, running with a spray gun, or as a little daddy's and mummy's child, who is being clutched feeling so shy and tender.
Well to say, the youngest thought is the first thing, your brain can capture, of those early days where you started feeling touch, taste and those thoughts of strangely moving images that you see happening around you. This feeling makes you feel so happy making you like the little king of the world.
I somehow try to recollect my early thoughts, where I saw myself sitting in a large bungalow's veranda with many rooms, in a Parsi House right in the heart of Mumbai city with my yellow tri-cycle parked behind me and my little soldier making fife tunes, my blue teddy bear and a He-Man sword. Slightly hearing to the evening traffic as the double deckers raced with each other cutting through the busy roads of Cuffe Parade. As I smartly wore a Dark brown safari suit with red shoes, the one that made whistling sound as you walked. As I stared above to the clear blue sky, seeing the magnificence of the new world I was being introduced to.
I saw my mother in her green saree, commonly worn by ladies during early 80's, talking on a device (telephone) which was black in colour. Seeing her speak over this strange instrument, was so enlightening as her lips moved up and down, she sometimes smiled by the movement of her lips in an upward direction, making me learn that smile is done this way, as this mostly happened on seeing me and sometimes her eyebrows went up, making me understand she was either excited or thrilled....such mixed emotions, though hard to understand, this was how I was introduced to the world and the language of being human.
As the evening passed, I saw the yellow warm ball in the sky that was keeping me warm, suddenly it starts to turn its colour to orange, when I saw a man approaching me, with similar expression which I understood immediately as I had watched my mother passing smile during daytime. He was my father, as he constantly spoke PAPA PAPA looking at me....wearing his officer's white Naval uniform with colourful stripes, with which I learnt my colour combinations.
Suddenly all starts getting even less colourful and that warm light outside the veranda fades to deep dark red sky and Cuffe Parade begins to sleep. I start to cry and then my rumbling stomach begins to enjoy the warm milk that I sip through the bottle and feel contented.
Slowly my father and mother started singing together turn after turn, sometimes in rumbling husk sound and sometimes in a calm soothing sound, patting my back. Slowly my eyelids begin to drop, like the toy I have in my room and all goes from quiet to still, this I guess was my first sleep experience.
