The years have passed by...

Dreams...myths....those carried all along the childhood,teenage and college days. Sometimes, you can't hide a smile on reflecting back on them.

* Howzaattt!
Those summers of exams and cricket, when we couldn't decide ourselves which was more important.Watching the match live in the small TV room where the chairs and sofa set wouldn't be enough to accommodate the entire audience, one of my starred items I added to my wish list was to watch a match live in a stadium with the same audience. Those were the times , when life beyond the Kottayam town was unheard, the biggest stadium that one could imagine was the Nehru stadium in the middle of the town (and we measured each monsoon, the strength of the rain by the number of steps under water in Nehru stadium). Now, when conditions are favourable for the dream to come true, neither the audience remains, nor the passion for cricket matches.

* Where 's the party tonight?
Movies and books portrayed parties as the most interesting things in the life of the high class( the meaning of high class even was different then!). I wished I was in a job, where there would be corporate parties, and friends gathered together for fun and joy. And today, when ever the e-mail for "project party" lands in my mailbox, the next thought is "what excuse could I make for today" :-)

* May I have your attention please...
Corporates meant meetings. And meeting meant highly professional where everyone talked business. I do not remember the number of times, I have practiced in front of the mirror with that highly professional look , "Mr.Smith, could I suggest a new idea...how about..." and I always carried a thick file in those imaginations. Fortunately or unfortunately, the designs that adorn my college notebook and the notepads of the "corporate" meetings are exactly the same (or in simple words, I never grew beyond drawing flowers,stars and modern art while attending sessions)

* 60 words per minute?
Pappa owned an old type writer which he bought from a German.We curiously watched wheever Pappa chaged the carbon ribbons or cleaned the keys in between. We were allowed to touch it only when he was gifted an electronic wordprocessor. Thats when I tried learning typing. I did imagine of owning a word processor some time in life( computer,then, may have been like dreaming to be on moon some day) and typing with out even looking at the keyboard. "asdfg, ;lkjh", I practiced day and night, but never did I learn proper typing. Today also, I spend more than 12 hours of a day with this word processor, but still I can't help taking a look at the keyboard very frequently.