Those were the days touched by magic. Everything was enchanting, wonderful and waiting to be discovered. Those days everything seemed attainable in land of infinite possibilities. When the twin sisters; astonishment and wonder held my hand. The days jumped happily, and nights provided wings to visit the dreamland of fantasies.
When running happily everywhere, competing with the wind was the norm. The mud fascinated, and clay took any shape in tiny hands. When clouds looked like giraffes, and the wind whispered magic spells.
A square box which was guarded fiercely, which contained treasure of feathers, pebbles, sea shells, ribbons and paper cuttings. Many pleasurable hours got immersed in this treasure.
Seasons were accepted with great glee without any complaints. Each season had ample and varied temptations.
Red, orange and yellow kites would allure in the windy months. The sight of kites soaring high in the sky is mesmerizing. Even today when I watch the kites a smile touches my lips delicately.
The tangy summers were spent in hours of reading books in the afternoons and drinking chilled fresh lime. Indian summer is like a mango all sweet and sour. Raw mangoes are eaten as a salad with a bit of salt. The variety of mangoes we get is huge. There is a new flavor to look for every week. Freshly pickled mangoes with rice would add tanginess to the lunch.
Paper boats floated in the rains. I loved the rainy days when schools declared holidays. Those days nothing mattered except discovering the universe, at least a part of it.
I don’t exactly remember when things changed. The colourful world became black and white and gray. Things and objects lost their ability to fascinate me. Life was more of routine with clock stress creating strife. The seasons brought additional chores. I started walking instead of running and became skeptical. I accepted life out of acceptance, and the wonder vanished. Then….
The magical Kingdom visited me again with my daughter arrived. Today, I get a glimpse to this wonderland holding her hand. I am touched to notice the dancing stars in her eyes when runs after the crimson butterfly. A ray of sun from the window makes her eyes huge with wonder. A little bird, a bunch of small puppies are worth all the time. She is my teacher in this innocent world.
The pictures are from the net.