The earliest and most cherished memory in my mind when it started creating lots of stories, was in the moonlit country courtyard of a Bengali village where my grandma used to spread a handwoven mat for us, and sing “kirtons”, a form of folklores where the whole story. I always wondered what would have happened if there were variations to this stories.
The joy of creating something out of scratch offered me more joy than just working on the same boring routine. Be it creating a leave management template in excel with a lot of formulas which would reduce the leave managment time for my ex company or creating a leaflet with a funny headline to catch attention to increase internal recruitment. Or maybe simply making a windchime with hollow tubes filled with dryflowers.
The old country home that I was born in was very very quite. The hustle and bustle of the commercial buildings were not there back then. My grandma placed a barricade made out of treelogs so we wouldn’t go out on the streets. The house was full of large raintree trees and fruits. During the day it was full of sunlight through the trees. I spent the whole day watching the work of light and shadow and the star studded sky at night.
Like typical country people, life was so simple back than. We didn’t have a luxurious life, we owned basic necessities and rejoiced over simple things. Be it dad sending a quilt for the inter with the inter district bus or my maternal granddad’s visit.
I usually preferred creating my own toy over store bought toys.