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There is a small pond in front of the childhood house I stay in every summer when I visit my native land during my vacation in June.
My Dada (Grandfather) says the pond used to be very big when he was young, people used to come fishing here, after the monsoon when the water from the river nearby flowed into the pond along with the different breeds of fish which the villagers spread the fishnets for and sell them in the markets.
But with time, the perimeter of the pond started decreasing as it got divided between my grandfather and his siblings and they enclosed the pond so that they can build their houses on it. My grandfather did it too but he left some portion, he didn't want to end the only source of his childhood recollections.
He shares some of them with me like, during the summer months with the sun burning it's brightest, humidity in the air, and the grasses and tree leaves swaying with the loo(hot air), he and his friends used to jump in the clear cerulean water causing chaos in the school of fish and pebbles resting on the water, laughing and giggling they splashed water at each other, their face free of worries, their lips decorated with smiles and eyes crinkled in joy. And remembering those memories, Dada has a smile on his own with longing swiveling in his dark-brown orbs while mine are trained on his face as his lips are reciting his childhood memories, the folds on his face noticeable from up this close, revealing the stages of life he has undergone.
We were sitting on the veranda of the house, the sunlight penetrating from the spaces left between the canopy formed mango leaves, in front of the house.
"Shoncho(listen) the food is ready", said my Dadi (Grandma) which broke us from our trance. Dada turned towards Dadi and nodded indicating 'he is coming'. When Dadi left he looked at me with a smile then got up heading inside while I sat there looking at the pond and making my own memories.
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