Garfield!!!

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Thursday, May 8, 2008

Childhood

When was the last time you made a paper rocket? (that innocent thing that transforms a piece of paper into an aeronautical marvel) Or played your heart out in the rain, dirt flying everywhere? Or simply marveled at the outside world? For those of you convinced I've finally gone mad, (arbit ramblings - first sign of madness) NO, I haven't lost it just yet.
A few days ago, my sister asked me what I'd have done in the summer holidays at her age. I told her that I'd have spent it making rockets out of my year's used notebooks, playing with my friends esp. in the frequent rains or getting my hands dirty in the backyard. It was then that I realised that I really missed these things. Nobody seemed to be doing them anymore. The last time I played in the rain was over two years ago. Why? Have I simply "grown" up? I don't know. Maybe its time for me to get in touch with my thirteen-year-old self. I should be in for a wonderful time!

4 comments:

Manu said...

exactly.. lost are the days of just plain fun.. just roaming around the colony playing hide and seek and stuff.. i miss those days.. today we need to go to the malls to enjoy.. we spend mega bucks for an hour of fun.. sad..

is that the cost of "progress"???

Vikram said...

Not progress, it's the fact that we've "grown up".

Unknown said...

I have fond memories of making rockets out of the 'booty' that we once collected from various politician funded autos with loudspeakers, handing out their vote for mes! I also have memories of making cork balls out of this fruit from trees that popularly grow on Bangalore roadsides. Countless chainlinked fences climbed, and countless people inspired and egged on to aquire that life skill also comes to mind. Not to mention, the infinite cricket fights and the ever so ecstatic feeling of victory over peers.

Anyway, point of the matter is, I wont have too much fun going out there and doing that now. As pitiable as that sounds, variety and timing are the spices of life. Nostalgia is best felt in one's memory, and recollected when one is senile enough to pity his grand children's wasted childhood!

Vikram said...

Well said. Eloquent as usual! Nice one Pom.