Life was a lot better in simpler
times; when we were children. Our wants and outlook towards life was a lot
simpler. The cradle of life went on rocking by hands of time and we grew up to
be wiser, essentially. No matter how strange or obtuse it seems. I live in a
place where I have grown up. So I have seen the changes a town or city metamorphose
over all these years. Same are the roads, same corners and sometimes the same
shop which stood the test of time. I never pay attention to how ferociously time
has or is passing by. But sometimes, when I find some time for myself, a lazy
Sunday evening with music rolling, playing some old songs which I have heard in
my growing years, I happen to ponder back. Time actually slows down. And all
those memories buried deep inside my mind crawls up to the surface.
As if just yesterday, I remember,
it was customary for my dad to take me to the ‘bazar’ every Sunday. I learnt to
recognize the fish, the meat, the bread, the milk and many other things. The infusion
of various sights, smells and sounds still lingers fresh on my mind. That was since at a very young age. My dad held my hand and traversed the busy ‘bazar’.
Intrigued and mesmerized by all that happened around me. I always looked
forward to those Sundays because I knew after the busy ‘bazar’ lessons, I would
get some toy from a local shop. Those kinds of Sundays are not there anymore,
neither is dad. The milkman is still there but the ‘bazar’ itself has changed a
lot and the toy shop is not there anymore.
First day of school! Suddenly listening
to a different language and praying to another unknown God. I often wondered
how I or any other child understood the language from first day itself. I
started praying to a different God and they told me it was not something different.
He was just another of God. Missionary Catholic schools have their own charms.
Those who have not been to one will always find the strict rules and disciplines
a bit too much. But trust me, it’s not that much different from any other
types. It’s just a tad disciplined. You meet and make new friends and suddenly you
find someone of your same size to share your thoughts and opinion on what’s
happening in and around your small world. His pencil box is larger but you have
more number of pencils. Her eraser is better but yours smell nicer. These kinds of important things, which hardly
matters to the rest of the universe, were of paramount importance. Forget
pencil, I don’t even use a pen today.
As the small fingers leant to hold
pencils, erasers, crayons, a whole lot of new world opened up. Where are those coloring
books and drawing sheets? Or the double ruled copy books to write in cursive? The
red football and a porch to play on; or my snowy dog, or the slip at the local
park; they are not there anymore. When heavy rains meant just small paper boats
with my name on it slowly floating to places unknown.
I had this small closet where I
used to keep all my toys. It was my small world of Pandora’s box. The content
of that box was mostly toy cars. So when my dad bought an attaché, it came along
with a sheet of alphabet stickers to imprint one’s initials on it. When I grew
up a little older and still in kindergarten, I happen to use those alphabets to
form the word ‘CARS’. And I pasted it on the door of that closet. All by myself!
It was quite an achievement in those simple times. That closet is not there
anymore. It was with us for quite a while until few years back. It had become a
tad too old. When it was broken down, it still had traces of those alphabets.
That kingdom of mine is long gone.
I always loved nature and playing
with mud was one of my favorite pass times. I used to dig up small holes to
mimic a small pond and fill it up with water. An imaginary miniature village
would come up beside it. An imaginary story line would run on my mind as if it
was a different world altogether. Simple were the wants. When was the last time
you played in mud?
It rained today quite heavily. As water
drops trickled down the leaves of trees, I happen to ponder back to those
times. Maybe, you have too. Maybe a drop or two have escaped your earnest heart
through your eyes remembering those times. May be you will be nostalgic reading
this once you remember your childhood. Maybe!
Today I thought about that paper
boat of mine. If it could return to me, I will find it crumpled, soggy and my
name all gone from its side. It is too small now to carry all the heart’s
desires. But I can bet, hidden in its
small folds are the sights, smells and sounds of the garden I used to play.
