What is your old joy? What keeps you connected to something that you loved in the past?

I asked this question in one of my book clubs. We were discussing Lunar New Year Love Story by Gene Luen Yang. One of the characters started learning lion dance and felt an old joy that she felt when she learned ballet as a child.

Most participants talked about music. Listening to old music took them back to some happy moments in their lives. They experienced a joy that had lived in the past. The traces of it lingered in their memories. Certain tune or lyrics of a well loved song brought forth those memories to the front.

I thought about my life. What brings the old joy back?

When I put nigella seeds and dry red chilis in hot mustard oil, the old familiar joy of being in our little home in Kolkata comes to mind. I took home food for granted then. Today, this particular smell evokes a feeling of home. Rather, the feeling of being loved and cared for resurfaces.

The smell of rice cooking.

When I listen to my kids, I sometimes lose focus. As they talk, I can picture their baby faces and almost feel their soft, warm hands in mine. Sometimes, when I kiss their cheeks or give them a hug, I get startled for a nano second. These are adult bodies that I am embracing. The old joy of their childhood, ensconced in my arms resurfaces.

When Sean laughs out loud, I remember the first time I saw a handsome man and how he turned around a smiled at me as he felt the pallu of my saree touch him softly when I walked past him.

When I see and feel ma’s rambunctious, contagious laughter in my mind’s eye, I feel the old joy of sitting next to her with a book in my hand, both engrossed in our respective books. I didn’t mind being sick when I was a child, to be honest. To make me feel better, Ma always bought me a book; an Amar Chitra Katha or two.

Baba buying fish guts to feed seventeen cats and some stray dogs in the neighborhood and me accompanying him to pet them.

I recently came across a picture of Sage with Sahana. When I see his photo, I can still feel his wet nose and soft fur under my hand. He was in our lives for only 10 years. But his paw left a imprint in our hearts forever. His memory is an old joy now. Our life was better because he was in it.

I am getting up on age. As I get older, I hope I get many more moments and memories of such joy. If I have the privilege to live longer, I hope I have a treasure trove of old joys to reminisce about and smile.