Marshak From Moscow

My brother wanted something to read, so I was mucking around in my old bookshelf. It hadn't been touched since I moved out from my home town. I was feeling lazy and grumpy, but my not-so-little-anymore brother insisted, and so I looked through all my old books to see if there was anything that he'd like. My search yielded a few books for him; and an old treasure for me.

I found one of my very first books, a nice little illustrated one, published in Russia, no less; about an old lady and her mischievous dog. It had my name written twice on the cover in my just-learnt handwriting, along with the class I was in -- I(B), or, first grade. There was also a message -- "Congratulations & blessings to Chy. Lalitha from Dr. Ramanamma". 'Chy.' Is short for 'Chiranjeevi', it means " one who lives forever". It's a commonly used title when referring to kids, basically it means that the one who's referring to you like this wants you to live a long and happy life. Dr. Ramanamma is one of my mother's very dear friends. She's a wonderful lady, and always told the most interesting and funny stories. Her children, though much older than me, were always ready to play with me whenever I visited. It was on one of these visits that Aunty gave me this book.

I'd forgotten most of the words, but the pictures were still fresh in my mind as I leafed through this thin little book. I remembered the grey dog, and how I felt drawn to it because of our own black dog that we'd had since before I was born. I remembered how carefree I was, how innocent and pure those days were.   I remembered a lot of other things that made my childhood magical, not least, our dog, Chinna. I still miss him, after all these years.

I showed the book to my mother and brother, which led to more reminiscing by my mother of how mischievous I used to be, and how at the end of the day she'd settle down with a book and I'd cuddle up to her with my own little book about the old lady and her grey dog. Maybe that's when I started loving books, when I could barely read but loved the feel of the book in my hands, and looking at the pictures the words made. The feeling that I was holding something made all the way away in Moscow added to that sense of wonder.

I hope I can hold on to that.