As a Child

As a child I always loved to go to office like my dad. Life sounded so happy for my father according to me, with no teacher homework etc. ‘Do what you like’ was the life of my dad. The bus ride to school was exciting, but how I wished it was to a picnic and not to school. The drawing class-wow! Awesome periods in which I never missed, my mother, grandmother, aunts & my wonderful toys. Then the number-work class followed by science class bought back home-sickness writing numbers and number names brought tears to my eyes and learning the spellings of animals and plants brought big sobs.
The morning milk was so boring. I wished I could have some cool drinks. The lunch bell brought back smiles. Eating with friends was fun- sharing food with each other. I loved playing hide & seek after lunch. I recollect when one day I was hiding behind the wall of our school building trying hard not to be spotted. The bell rang but I did not hear. I was hiding wondering how I was not being spotted while at the same time feeling happy that I had won. Fifteen minutes passed, I became aware of my loneliness. I slowly came out of my hiding only to find out silence everywhere. I rushed to the class. The social studies teacher had started the monotonous history lecture. She just loved to punish me by asking to write the lesson- British Rule in India 3 times. Then was our computer class. I loved it. Fascinated with the thought of learning without holding pen, pencil, eraser etc, the computer sounded a great wonder for me. The school bell rang; my face glittered to go home. The teacher had filled up the complaint column. My promises to my mother that I would not repeat my mistakes again were another routine to my mom. Sundays were the best. Everyone has a holiday spending some good time with my grandmother, aunts & mom watching my favourite shows on tv, but Sunday night beats the trumpet of Monday morning oh! Oh! No how long.

A Little This, A Little That

Digging from Childhood

I dug through this last week in my endeavor to clean the clutters. It was a beautiful, silly kind of feeling which I could not resist sharing with you.


A little this, a little that

A little smile, a little pat

A little laugh, a little wink

A little care, a little kick

A little fight, a little love

A little treat, a little sob

A little heart, a little wish

A little dream, a little miss

A little world, a little we

A little you, a little me

A little this, a little that

That is all I want.


©
MouD

Nov 19, 1983

A child’s sorrow

Tears were flowing like the monsoon rains. Her sobs had no sound. The rain water soaked her new Birthday dress. She didn’t listen to anyone..She would not get up from the steps or eat her food. All that she wanted was a Doll. Grandma was the only one who saw her tears. She asked everyone to get her a doll. But no one cared. Grandma never went out of the house, so she couldn’t go to shops. Grandma knew this was the only time she cried for something. But she was helpless. No-one would listen to her. The only thing she craved for as a child was a Doll. But she never got it.
Today standing amidst laxuries, sorting out the toys in my grandson’s room, I remembered that scene, 50 years back. My eyes searched for a doll. No, There isn’t any..Ha, boys don’t play with dolls. Soft toys in all animal shapes, remote controlled cars,trains and aeroplanes were there, but not a doll.
Even if I get one now, what difference it makes? I could very well buy any number of dolls during the past years. While travelling all over India, all sorts of dolls fascinated me. But I never bought one as I knew it would only bring tears to my eyes.
The disappointments of childhood are so deep-rooted that we can never come over that sorrow. When things are easily available it brings less happiness.