Children on the way

One never knows how life can change as we grow. It's only when we turn into adults, that we feel like being kids again, and when we're kids, we dream to have responsibilities, a family, a house, and a job. A dream job.

Seeing them I wish I'd never grown. They had so much left in life. So many to face, so many to see. Responsibilities, expectations, and dreams to conquer.
They were happy now.

Five beautifully innocent faces, happy and content with their lives. How I wished I spoke better Marathi to communicate with them. They flocked around me to bravely look at my camera's display, as I composed a photograph of a wall and a vessel.

So curious, their eyes full of wonder. The youngest boy of six or seven shifted his legs as I smiled at him. "Do you all want to see?" I asked in my pathetic Marathi, lowering my camera to their level. Appreciatively, they gathered around its screen, their faces full of awe. "Can I shoot you?" I asked them in my broken speech.

The young girl smiled shyly, and I clicked her innocent face. I wished to be eight again. To play, to cycle, and run around. To fall and get hurt, roll in dirt and muck, and have mum yell at me for it. They were so lucky. I wished they'd never have to grow. I showed them their pictures, and they squealed in recognition of their own faces. It gave me so much happiness. They would have something to tell their mother when they ran home for lunch. They would tell her of a strange didi with a camera, and how wonderful it was to see themselves in its screen. It was so exhilarating to see their curiosity and wonder.

I so felt light and happy, that it made me smile all the way back to hostel. I wished I could play with them. I wish I could speak in Marathi. I wish I could make more time.

Comments

Be the change you want to see.

18th April 2016 Arvind and I recently read about the 19 year old who is solving the world’s ocean pollution crisis. Boyan Slat is a Dutch engineering student single handedly developing the gyers (floating booms and processing platforms) which would potentially clean up 20 billion tonnes of plastic from the world's oceans; the plastic which kills millions of animals and damages thousands of cargo vessels every year. Arvind stressed on the fact that he was 19 – he was exceptionally impressed by a kid who showed that much drive, determination and hard work at such a young age. For me, regardless of his age, this was so commendable. The age didn’t matter to me, infact I disagreed with Arvind, and mentioned how adults have it harder to do something for the greater good. Not only are they in a pathetic zone (they have full time jobs!), they also have responsibilities towards their families and are less imaginative and courageous than the youth since they are aware of the hindrances li

The Coconut Seller

9th November 2013 I approached the coconut seller and asked, "how much for one?" "30 for malai wala and 25 for paani wala" "Patli malai wale ke liye kitna?" "30 memsaab", he said. I asked for one with the thin malai. It was delicious. The first sip from the straw, and images of coconut trees and paddy fields flashed in my mind. Narrow roads and clear skies, palms swaying in the breeze - it cut back to the straw. The water was over. I looked inside the coconut, hoping for more water. "Kahan se laate ho aap?" I asked. "Mysore se. Yaha toh koi nikaalta nahin hai pedh se. Pakh jaate hain." he said. "Aur aap kaha se ho?" "Main Allahabad se" he said, smiling. "Itni door se? Poori family yaha hai?" "Haan ji. Ek flat tha, lekin usme jagaha nahin thi, toh hum bhaade pe reh rahe hain." he said, "aap kaha se ho?" "Main Goa se hoon" I said. He smiled. "Toh a

About Grandfather

26th March 2015 Bad drawing. But drawing nonetheless. My grandfather, 'Deddy' was a very good man. I used to think in his old age that I barely know him. In my growing up years he was already bed ridden. Deddy was the only doctor in our family, n he was a great one. He was an orthopedic surgeon. It was sometime in 2000, that he had fully lost function of the right side of his body and was suddenly paralysed. The deddy I saw after that was a short tempered crabby demanding person, who only seemed to live for his love of food. He would need help to sit up on the bed, bathe and eat. He was like this for 12 years until I was in my 1st year of college and got the call. I wouldn't say I was very close to him, but he did talk to me a lot about his younger days of apprentice, his travels to Britain and his violin. He was very proud of me because I loved sports and he thought I was intelligent because I aced biology. But the reason I loved him was because I had flashes of m

Coconut Cruncher

Search This Blog