Child In Time.

There is a certain beauty about misty winter mornings that is very soothing. There is that sense of familiarity in the morning fog that I have seen, whethere I was here, in Nepal or in Kashmir. It always takes me back to our 8 am suzuki rides to OPF, whilst being dressed in ironed and startched blue and white uniforms. With the whitest of the white socks and shiny black bata shoes, I remember it all. The friends from prep school to primary, the teachers who seemed to be the prettiest women in the world(and the smartest too) along with the boys who would put gum under our desks and greesed their hair like there was no tommorow.

Its such a warm nostalgia, enough to make me blog on this freezing tuesday morning, even after a long ten years. We have all grown old, so has our school and our suzuki but I can still smell the pakwaan waali dukaan near school like I was there a minute ago.

Silly fog. Silly fog.