my happy space....

At every stage of my life, I have had several happy spaces of my own. These spaces are very significant to me, as they are my own personal islands where I spend time with myself. And now as the years have flown by, and though I have not been able to access them physically, in time of stress, the stirring nostalgic memories of those particular spaces soothe and please me.
Even today, when the sun shines warmly on a crisp winter morning, I am transported to the happy place where I grew up. I had made a nest for myself in the tiny attic, where my mother used to store jars of pickles and old boxes. The sun streamed in through the square window and warmed the room, while the wind whispered and rustled the leaves of the lychee tree nearby. Once school broke for winter holidays, I would spend the entire day there, sprawled on the woven straw mat, surrounded by stuffed cushions, reading my latest loot from the library. The reading was interrupted with stuffed cheese parathas for breakfast and endless cups of tea with milk and sugar. I can still hear echoes of laughter and see the delight on the faces of my friends. It was a place where I used to laugh, cry and spin improbable dreams.
In my college days, I found refuge under the big banyan tree in the central courtyard. I found a special joy in that space. I would sit there for hours on end, reading books and making notes when the exams came really close. When I wasn't in a mood to study, I would choose an old favourite classic and rifle through it. My attention would wander sometimes from the printed pages to see the city --- completely stretched out, its broad streets and green squares, the silver glint that was the river and the bridges that spanned them.
More recently, my happy spaces include the gulmohor fringed terrace of my flat where I lived when I first moved to this city. This was the venue of many impromptu parties, a place where my friends would gather for barbeque and beer. Over the spitting coals, the lamb roasted while the stars formed a canopy and the soft breeze lulled our senses. This was the vantage point where I first fell in love with the city's winter, with its swirling mysterious fog enveloping everything on its wake. I can still smell the peat burning in the fire, it's red hot smoldering cheerfulness, the smell of tobacco, beer and the filmy layer that frying chips left in the air.
Ofcourse, there are a lot of other places that qualify as happy spaces for me. There is my favourite corner at Barista on MG road, where I can curl up with my favourite book and a strong cup of coffee whenever I want some downtime. The wide windows provide a broad view of the sidewalks, where people take a stroll and swagger in a colourful pedestrian parade. Or the green pastures of Empress Garden, which is the best place to go for a walk as the day winds down. And strangely enough, I find happy spaces in long-haul flights as well, where you can settle down with a glass of wine and watch crappy movies back-to-back without feeling the least bit guilty of wasting time.
I guess at the end of the day, a happy space is where you create some warm and fuzzy memories for yourself. These days, the happiest place for me is the red sofa in my living room where I unwind after a hard day at work.
All of us have happy spaces. Some exist in a physical form and some remain only in our minds. But even if they survive in our minds, they always make life happier with their existence.