Life has its own complexities. As we grow, we complicate it further and crib for the rest of our lives. Today, when Children’s Day has arrived, I have this innate desire to become a child, once again. Because then life was so uncomplicated and simple. Then, the most mundane thing would never fail to excite me. And I was fearless to speak my mind, irrespective of the consequences.
Those days:
Happiness meant a Cadbury chocolate. The process of unwrapping one would brighten up my face. While the process of finishing the product inside would new no boundaries of propriety. I would eat it, enjoying every bite oblivious to the mess it could create over the face and outfit. Who cared because I was still a child!
Heartbreaks meant not being able to run to the park and play without deadlines to pursue. Play my heart out in the outdoors and come home all in ruins. Fight with my playmates over silly loses. Cry all the way back and still be desperate to meet the same friends, the very next day. Forget and forgive was a way of life. I couldn’t spell ‘grudges’ then.
Sadness meant being refused the new curvaceous Barbie in town which all my friends proudly possessed. While I was made to study hard to own one. It meant losing a faded toy, without an eye or a nose, which had wordlessly taken the onslaught of my affection. It also meant mom cooking one of those least favourite veggies for meals and ensuring that I finish every bite on my plate. Gosh! I tried my best to dump it to some secret places but she wouldn’t move an inch away even if a tsunami knocked at the doorstep.
Creativity meant drawing Diwali diyas (lamps) on mountain tops and showing sun-rise at the same time. Even better when my small group of followers, followed me till the T. Result didn’t win us any awards but we were happy that the disasters were displayed for public to notice. Publicity was what we all desired for.
Love meant a simple hug from the parents and dear ones. Any feelings of being abused were unknown. You could be demanding as you wanted without a care of break-ups. You didn’t need to worry about the timely arrival of your periods. Your hormones didn’t make you cranky and weird during those few days. Stomach cramps and other ordeals were not a part of your life. And if you had a miss, you wouldn’t have eaten the happiness of your partner, worrying about it.
Dancing came easy without any fear of the limelight. I knew no moves yet proudly displayed my own steps to an audience which would clap before I could finish hoping that I would stop the onslaught. And I was delighted in the ignorance of being appreciated. Wish I am less aware of the public glare, today.
Knowledge meant filling the pages of notebook with work assigned by the school teachers. Even if it meant writing the same good old ‘sorry’ for hundred times because I had bashed a guy, badly. It also meant crayon drawings in the sketchbooks and proudly displaying it to the parents, who tried hard to disguise their shock.
Stress meant getting less marks than expected. It meant not being able to finish the homework series during the long summer vacation because I was too busy getting pampered by the grandparents. Sometimes, it also meant not finding the school tie, missing pair of socks and unpolished shoes etcetera which got escalated to the parents.
Life was fun but most of us didn’t realize it then. All I wanted to do was grow up quickly and be the grown-ups. Little did I knew that with age comes acnes, aches of all kinds, losses-financial & relationships, gains-weight & diseases, pressure-performance & deadlines and the list is endless.
Aww…how I miss the good-old-days!
Here’s wishing the child in us find reasons to celebrate, today.
Pic Courtesy: Google Images
Lovely :)
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