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  • Memories are the thread of life. Without them life would be just a series of events. My earliest memories go back to the time I was around 3. The ones from before are buried so deep I am not sure if they are real or imaginary. I was 4 when my Uncle told me I had a new baby sister. I remember standing in the hallway looking up to him. The feeling part is still very vivid. Even now if I feel a certain way, it can trigger a flashback to a moment years ago when I felt the same.

    I remember a lot from my childhood - the first school, first grade teacher, classmates, the bed I shared with my sister, our dog, picnic at the zoo, and so much more. If I close my eyes, I can smell the wet earth after a heavy monsoon downpour, feel the soft muslin of my Naani's (maternal grandmother) soft Sari, taste the heavenly cardamom filled sweetness of my Mom's rice pudding, touch the slipperiness of a brand new marble floor.


    Memories are like whispers. Like the soft strokes of a brush on tiny neurons. A sudden downpour yesterday made my heart jump with joy. I've always loved the rain. I remember when the hot days of summer led to the very welcome thunders of the monsoons and how we would run outside to get completely drenched in the first rain. Who does not enjoy a beatiful damsel dressed in a Sari breaking into a song about her beloved at the first sight of rain - in countless bollywood movies! And my heart still races when I think of that distant day, riding pillion on a motorbike holding tight to someone zooming through lanes rain lashing our faces.

    My most memorable rain memories are from a deeply profound experiece in Dharamsala, abode of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in the Himalayas, one of the most spiritual places on earth. I can still feel the clouds floating by while the monks chanted centuries old hymns. Hawaii will always claim a part of me as the place where I would experiece that magic of rain again. One look at the cloud covered Ku'ulao mountains, and it never fails to wash the grime away from my heart.


    While I brave the Austin heat waiting for just a tiny bit of rain, I imagine the artist in my brain painting this immense masterpiece, connecting all my memories, one brushtroke at a time, each stroke adding a little more detail. After all, all I have to do is close my eyes. All those moments, still here, all within me, a click away.
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