Wandering With Words

Random musings of a reckless soul.

This is why I love kids!

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Dear me.

Dear twenty-years-ago me,

I am sorry. I have lost everything you had. I was helpless.

You lived the life of a queen, I do not.

I have to look after myself. No one takes care of me anymore. I do my own chores. Nobody changes my clothes anymore. I have to be neat and clean and make sure nothings messy anymore! You may not believe me but I even have to eat by myself! I even cook for myself by myself!

Back then, when I was you, people were of two kind – good and crazy. The kind who gave us chocolates and the other who made faces and pinched our face and stopped us from having fun.

Now, people have become complicated. They say Santa isn’t real. Love hurts. You would not believe how hard it is to survive, without losing most of the innocence we possess as a child. That’s a part of growing up.

But have I grown up? I still do, secretly, enjoy melting chocolate on my fingers and licking it. I still play in rain puddles, sleep sometimes with my shoes on, and try to count stars, eat maggie masala, fight for swings and get scolded for having fun.

They say I need to be responsible. And more civil. They tell me that when I go to parks, I can’t play in the mud. And guess what, school has finally ended! Anndd I miss it!

Well, life has changed. A lot. I can’t tell you how and in how many ways. Dad isn’t around anymore. His princess is no longer a princess. But life isn’t so bad. There’s family, there are friends. Real ones. There are memories and there are adventures waiting ahead. There are aims, there’s hope. There are sunrises and sunsets, there is beach and sand.

But you wouldn’t understand all this. Your world was very different from mine. You loved yours, I love mine. Sometimes I hate it, but then I learn to love it again.

So yeah, when someone tells you that you have a lot to learn, believe them. But when they tell you that it’s a dark world out there, don’t believe them! Remember, you could always be the rainbow in somebody else’s life.

Love,

Me. 🙂


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Hinc illae lacrimae

Drawing-Picture

 

It was nothing out of the blue. I was on my way back home from an education fair and the auto rickshaw I was in stopped behind a large swarm of vehicles at a traffic light.

 

Now, when you stop at the traffic lights what is the first thing that you notice? In India? The red light? Or the unnecessary smoke coming off your neighbours’ vehicles? Or the law-breachers flouting traffic rules? Or the people spitting? Or the wasting of finite resources?

 

Nope, what usually welcomes you first when you halt at the red light are the beggars-of-India! Mendicants. Vagrants. Whatever you call them, you will find them on the streets. As I said, nothing surprising about it.

 

So,there I am,fiddling with my bag when this little girl comes running. She must have been seven years or maybe eight, not more. Sun burned, her hair is full of filth and is wearing a dirt smeared yellow dress. Bareheaded, barefooted under the hot sun.

 

She looks at me imploringly, extends her palm and does what she has been taught to do: Beg.

 

So I give this little cherub a ten rupee note and she beams at me, turns to look at the lights and prances back under a tree and sits down. She starts doodling in the mud with her finger and I turn my attention back to my bag. The light goes green-the engine fails to start. The driver tells me to hire another auto. He is the boss, so I hop down and, move under the shade of the tree and start waving at the autos who pass by as if I was invisible. I look around in frustration and that is when I espied it.

 

The girl had finished her doodling and was getting ready for her next round as the light turned red again. She ran to do her chore and left me gaping at what she had drawn in the mud.

A house…A Home.

 

Hence those tears.