The other day my friend's father brought some toffees home. I picked up a few while on my way to office and stuffed them into my pocket. Not because I wanted to have them, but because I wanted to give some of them away to my colleagues. And while I made the routine journey to my office, I was flooded with memories of my childhood. That made me smile, and I realized that even though my childhood was a long time back, some things didn't change. I was, in some ways, still the child, the person, I used to be back then.
When anyone got me a lot of toffees, I used to stuff as many as I could into my pockets, while going to school the next day. Contrary to the other days, I just couldn't wait to get to school. Then I would gather my closest friends around and distribute the toffees between us. It gave me immense satisfaction and happiness to do so. It was as if I was sharing a part of a treasure that I stumbled upon. It was one of the fun things that almost became a ritual, yet never stopping being fun.
And it's strange how memories bind themselves to almost everything. Everything.
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