I must be two years old and that must be sundown because I remember a pleasant sky. Or may be it was morning. I don’t remember clearly any tree or the color of the crop but I do remember the undulating ground and the sticky soil. But the most distinct was a sudden sight of a zillion legged ( to my eyes) monster crawling on the soil. That solemn stingless centipede terrified my nascent eyes and I went jittery. The hand that held mine was grabbed so fiercely that it ceased the leisurely walk. Those two bespectaled intent eyes must have explored the source of my fear and probably laughed at the harmlessness of its source. Then the most incredible thing happened to me. Those hands lifted me and I was on my grand pa’s shoulders. Retrieved , rescued , reassured, rejoiced all at once. My hands rested over his magnificient white hair and my fears were left behind. My grand father had a brief presence in my life ( he passed when I was three ) . I am grateful that he gave me my very first memory of literally being on top of the world. Besides being an incredible human being he was an excellent writer. His words are an eternal link , an unspoken bond that soothe , inspire and connect to him. I don’t claim to posses any exceptional writing talent but words take me to a different level of being and rescue me from the cetipeded monsters of stress, despair and negativity.
So instead of giving a blog title that exuded creativity I prefered a name that had my grandfather’s presence and our bonding with words.