The Shoreline Of Change
– Niharika Sudheer
Nostalgia is like a drug. It hits you, takes you into a different dimension and then suddenly drops you back into reality. For me, nostalgia is waking up to the sound of Sri Venkatesa Suprabhatam on the weekends, nostalgia is the smell of raat ki rani in October, nostalgia is the taste of raw mango, salt and chilli powder that my sister and I used to eat while hiding from our nani, nostalgia is the feeling you get when the warm sunshine hits you on a cold winter morning in Delhi.
I don’t know what it is about nostalgia, it hits you most when something is about to change. I’m eighteen, going off to college soon and everything around me takes me back to my childhood. The thought of moving out takes me back to my childhood. In true younger sibling fashion, I was indeed a handful child, from being a picky eater to being a complete mama’s girl who wouldn’t let her mom stay put for more than 10 minutes. Even though I was a handful, my childhood was filled with love and laughter. There are some instances from my childhood that I will never forget like the time when I cooked for the first time or the time when my sister and her best friend tried to teach me how to ride a bicycle and how it ended up with one scared child with scraped knees and two teens who were laughing like crazy.
Being a Mallu kid born and brought up in Delhi I had the best of both worlds. My childhood was filled with celebrations be it Diwali or Onam, we celebrated both with the same joy and excitement. But what made my childhood truly nostalgic was my family. Ever since I can remember they have been my cheerleaders. They saw all of my terrible dance performances, ate all the weird stuff I used to cook and dealt with all my tantrums without ever complaining. I can’t help but get a little teary-eyed when I think about leaving. But in the wise words of Sheldon Cooper, “Change is the only universal constant”.