The Memoirist
Published in

The Memoirist


Take Me Home

’Cause I do remember

pexcornel from Catalonia, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

I love those random memories that make me smile no matter what is going on in my life right now

This morning, when I woke up, I had the song Take me home by Phil Collins playing in a loop in my head, alternating with I wish it would rain down. Pleasant enough, you’d say. I would agree.

Along with the song, however, rushed in a particular memory from three decades ago, taking me back in time.

I strolled down memory lane as my hands busily grated carrots, chopped up coriander, added the various masalas. I hummed as I sieved the flour into the bowl, mixed it with the veggies, and kneaded the dough for the veg rotis for lunch.

As my hands rolled the dough, my train of thought rolled out from the present into the past. It was a veritable express, refusing to halt at any station and insisting on running full speed along a parallel track in my head.

As I worked on autopilot, I set my mind free and let my mind wander.

A new city
Gorgeous weather
A spray of rain every morning
Lovely residential area
Pleasant house
A job I loved
Great colleagues
Wonderful friends

After the scorching heat of the city that my mom and I had left temporarily, the all-day cool weather was amazing. I couldn’t wait to explore the area. We had been there for barely a couple of days and my mom would sweetly worry I might get lost.

Fortunately, I had a good sense of direction and even if I got lost, I was more than happy to discover new places. Plus, I had the power of speech, right?

Anyway, back to that day.

I left our neighborhood and crossed the 100-feet main road to the other side. Another pedestrian walked by and I asked him where the road going to the right led. Bethany School, he said. Filing it away in my mind as a good landmark to remember, I decided to walk as far as the school and back.

Barely mid-way to my destination, my ears picked up the strains of a song by one of my favorite music artists, Phil Collins. I naturally quickened my step, eager to get to the source. As the notes became more audible, I knew I was heading the right way.

The song Do you remember drew me like a magnet and soon, I found myself standing in front of a single-story house.

Neat, no-frills, recently white-washed. A few potted plants outside. After only a moment’s hesitation at the doorway, I stepped in. My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. Even as Phil Collins’ voice held me spellbound, I looked around to find myself in a massive room, bereft of any furniture, save the strategically spaced and placed Bosch speakers.

At the far end, I saw a music system quite like the boombox street artists used in the movies I’ve seen. And coveted. They also had some music equipment and a table and a couple of chairs.

I also noticed a couple of young guys, dressed in faded blue jeans and white T-shirts looking at me curiously. Irrelevant detail, but I also remember they were clean-shaven and um…pleasant-looking.

As I walked in, conscious of the sound of my shoes on the floor, they watched. Then one of them took a step towards me and courteously asked how they could help me.

It turned out this was a recording studio of sorts. They also made music tapes with song compilations on request, for a fee. Those were still the days of audiotapes. Computers and cell phones were yet to enter our lives.

I remember getting into an animated discussion with them about how Phil Collins’ sound was always unique, each musical note crystal clear. Both guys broke into wide smiles — obviously it was a mutual feeling and we chatted, sharing our love for music, discussing artists we enjoyed.

Then, one of the guys excused himself and went and closed the door, which I had forgotten to shut on my way in. When I asked him why he smiled and said ‘wait and see’.

I was in for a treat. The song currently playing segued into one of my all-time favorite songs by Phil Collins Take me home. They raised the volume.

I could literally feel my heart thumping — my senses went into overdrive.

But it wasn’t just the song that blew me away.

It was that moment.

In that room. The company.

I was completely enchanted.

What an experience it was!

One of the guys — his name was Sunny — offered to record it for me on an audio cassette along with some other assorted songs we’d talked about. I was so excited while I waited.

I practically skipped back home. Couldn’t wait to tell my mom. I impatiently shopped at the commercial complex to pick up some stuff. But my real treasure was nestled in the inside pocket of my jacket — the Phil Collins cassette.

I still have it, and though we have YouTube to indulge us anytime we want to listen to a song, I am still excited to play the tape — which sounds just as beautiful as the first time. And my heart beats just as fast!

The studio no longer exists. But this treasured memory will always be fresh in my mind.

Take me home by Phil Collins from the fantastic album No Jacket Required. Crank up the volume for the best effect.


I enjoyed reading Karen Rand Anderson’s beautifully reflective post as she ponders over memoir writing.

Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles ❤ Did you smile today?
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Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles

Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles

Writing about Self Improvement, Mindfulness, Meditation, Parenting, Health, Travel, Life, Books. Showing my diabetes who’s boss. Visit: