“When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
I was sitting in the corner of a restaurant with my coffee, lost in my own dreams, my own world, staring meaninglessly at the by-passers. None of them had the ability to pull me back to reality…
And then there were 2 girls who passed by mumbling some song, together and that was when, abruptly I was bought back to reality. They were lovely little girls of barely 8-9 years old, wearing beautiful pink and white frocks. I don’t know why, but I loved watching them play. They engrossed me completely! But then there was something else that was taking my attention away… Dragging me so gravely to my dream world again: the balloons that they were playing with. Balloons with polka dots: white on red and black on green. They were gorgeous! It was so difficult for me to take off my eyes from those stunning polkas.
The balloons were flying high spreading and splashing those colours of their polkas in the air. It looked as if they were filled with joy and happiness. The girls were clutching their strings carefully, but at the same time, losing them as much as they needed to dance in the air. I felt like this was the first time I was witnessing balloons. It was like I have had never seen anything so carefree and happy. I was envious! I was… I was rather jealous of those… balloons, yes balloons… I was envious of their carefreeness, their happiness and joy of which they say there is so much dearth of, of the fact that they had someone to hold them tight and take care of them, of their easiness.
I wanted to be one of those, all because I wanted all that they had. It felt like its been ages since I have felt all those things, been long since I have been me: carefree, happy, throwing tantrums, being pampered, being taken care of, troublesome, dancing like no one is watching, just doing what I like and I love!
I was like that… long long back… when I was a kid! I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things deteriorated. I was oblivious to the world’s problems, as I had my own list of issues. Off course, I had my own things to worry about. I had to worry about my homework, what dress to put on my doll to make her look the best amongst all my friend’s dolls, what to cook in my mini-playing kitchen, what to draw, what kind of colours to demand from dad this time, how to convince dad for buying me a new pair of shoes, what excuse to make to skip school, what to wear on my next birthday, what chocolates to buy to distribute in my class, what gift to demand on getting good marks in next exams, how to make papa sign on the complain in my school diary, how to ask my dad for a new pink pencil box, what cover to put on my notebook, how to knock that little boy down who teased me of not been able to play cricket.
And that was all… And for the rest all, I had my mom and dad to take care of, who held the strings of my life so tightly and carefully, just giving me the right amount of freedom to enjoy and handle my above mentioned list of worries.
And then, as every good thing doesn’t last forever, I grew up. And my parents had to release my strings and there I was, in the sky, flying high: which felt awesome in the beginning but then, it went on becoming scary as I went higher and higher in the sky… And I started feeling suffocated because of the increasing air pressure. Always wondering why was I in such a hurry to grow up, why on earth was I always so excited and thrilled to fly in the sky, all by myself. Why? for this? And I started craving to go back… back to my childhood: that made me carefree, happy, that filled me with joy!
I want my parents to hold my strings again and I will be a good and obeying child this time: I promise!
P.S. Give me some sunshine, give me some rain… Give me another chance and I would refuse to grow up again...
P.S.S. Mom Dad (if you are reading this)... Please adopt me... again....