A little kid I once knew used to be content with the smaller pleasures of life. Times changed. The little kid died.
The kid used to look forward to waking up at 4 am, if only to beat the rooster at its own game. The kid saw it more as a challenge than a misery. Times changed. The little kid died.
The kid found homemade almond powder a lot tastier than any of those "secret ofmy our enegy" drinks, let alone caffeine or carbonated drinks. Times changed. The little kid died.
The kid's outdoor life would kick off just before the sun popped up - going door to door at annoyingly early times knocking the sleep out of the whole street (and over each floor of each building/apartment on the street) to assemble two sides of a cricket/football team, only to return home two hours later muddy-stinky all over. Carefree, and full of life - a forced afternoon nap on holidays, or anything remotely close to hibernation - was something the kid despised with all his heart. Times changed. The little kid died.
Rushing off to school - a half-devoured breakfast, untied shoelaces, back'sack' zippers partly sealed with about 15 odd things precariously dangling without popping out - making it to the class ranks for the prayer barely in time, only to realize that the math homework notebook due the first hour of school was left back home; waiting for the lunch-hour Class One onwards, and for the final-bell lunch onwards ; a ride back home in a cycle-rickshaw - the kid used to enjoy the 9-5 lifestyle inspite of its minor shortcomings. Times changed. The little kid died.
Gulping down yet another glass'a milk after school (some kids loved milk, for the record) before scooting out for another round of games/sports/chitochats with pals on compound walls or terraces discussingthe theories of evolution the trivialities of life - with real-world conversations that often lasted hours - the kid believed evenings couldn't be spent better. Times changed. The little kid died.
Dinner was when the kid would regale his parents with the highlights of the day - learning that little new something the kid never knew before, the class bully being given a solid rap on the knuckles by the teacher, the upcoming school picnic, the cribbings about having to scribble multiplication tables twenty times over, and yet another line of excuses for bringing the lunchbox home with pretty much all contents intact. Times changed. The little kid died.
The kid would refuse to go to bed until he'd heard a longishly long bedtime story - was surprising how parents and grandparents could come up with a new story each night when even moviemakers struggle to get to the same ends nowadays. The reassuring comforts of a mother's lap, the unbroken blissful sleep, and the irrelevance of alarm clocks - the kid enjoyed that time between days as much as the days themselves.
Times changed. The little kid grew up, left his small-town belongings for big-city life, and eventually crossed over to a bigger place - the US of A. His day now begins at a sluggish 11 am, with the hangover from sleep lasting another hour or so. He swears by caffeine, and depending on the time of the day, it either kicks him off the bed or gently tranquilizes him back to it. He makes it to classes a good 20 minutes late each time, often missing 'pop' quizzes held in the first ten minutes. No more rigours of repititive impositions, he now punches a few lines and lets a computer do the grillwork for him, conveniently so. No more mathematical tables - he now worries about vector calculus and eigenvalue realizations. His homeworks are now submitted on a digital dropbox - no more hardcopies. No more half-yearly and yearly exams, his agonies now revolve around conference papers gone bust, an obscure 'thesis' that refuses to take off, and the uncertainties of life, academic and otherwise, a year from date.
Baked potatoes for lunch - the 'kid' finally has a valid excuse for skipping lunch, but no one around to ask him for one. No more compound-wall powwows, his social interactions are now limited to over-the-internet conversations with people next door, and the door next to it. Conversations with people in flesh and blood end before they begin - a passing hi, a nod of the head, a wazza here, a howzitgoin' there. When someone said no man's an island onto himself, someone got it terribly wrong.
Evenings are now 'spent' on power naps that last a good 4-5 hours, before the somnathlon post-midnight. Dinner's digested over yet another rerun of a TV show or a movie buffered the previous night - no more bedtime tales. He dozes off with glasses on, headphones unplugged with the bellytop buffering movies for the the next night's dinner session. The fleeting moments before unconsciousness are now spent on regrets over yet another wasted day, over things that should have been done, and weren't; over delays, deadlines and due dates. Sleep - unbroken, blissful? Something like that.
The rot grows deeper - within and without. Times changed. Somewhere down the line, the little kid died.
The kid used to look forward to waking up at 4 am, if only to beat the rooster at its own game. The kid saw it more as a challenge than a misery. Times changed. The little kid died.
The kid found homemade almond powder a lot tastier than any of those "secret of
The kid's outdoor life would kick off just before the sun popped up - going door to door at annoyingly early times knocking the sleep out of the whole street (and over each floor of each building/apartment on the street) to assemble two sides of a cricket/football team, only to return home two hours later muddy-stinky all over. Carefree, and full of life - a forced afternoon nap on holidays, or anything remotely close to hibernation - was something the kid despised with all his heart. Times changed. The little kid died.
Rushing off to school - a half-devoured breakfast, untied shoelaces, back'sack' zippers partly sealed with about 15 odd things precariously dangling without popping out - making it to the class ranks for the prayer barely in time, only to realize that the math homework notebook due the first hour of school was left back home; waiting for the lunch-hour Class One onwards, and for the final-bell lunch onwards ; a ride back home in a cycle-rickshaw - the kid used to enjoy the 9-5 lifestyle inspite of its minor shortcomings. Times changed. The little kid died.
Gulping down yet another glass'a milk after school (some kids loved milk, for the record) before scooting out for another round of games/sports/chitochats with pals on compound walls or terraces discussing
Dinner was when the kid would regale his parents with the highlights of the day - learning that little new something the kid never knew before, the class bully being given a solid rap on the knuckles by the teacher, the upcoming school picnic, the cribbings about having to scribble multiplication tables twenty times over, and yet another line of excuses for bringing the lunchbox home with pretty much all contents intact. Times changed. The little kid died.
The kid would refuse to go to bed until he'd heard a longishly long bedtime story - was surprising how parents and grandparents could come up with a new story each night when even moviemakers struggle to get to the same ends nowadays. The reassuring comforts of a mother's lap, the unbroken blissful sleep, and the irrelevance of alarm clocks - the kid enjoyed that time between days as much as the days themselves.
Times changed. The little kid grew up, left his small-town belongings for big-city life, and eventually crossed over to a bigger place - the US of A. His day now begins at a sluggish 11 am, with the hangover from sleep lasting another hour or so. He swears by caffeine, and depending on the time of the day, it either kicks him off the bed or gently tranquilizes him back to it. He makes it to classes a good 20 minutes late each time, often missing 'pop' quizzes held in the first ten minutes. No more rigours of repititive impositions, he now punches a few lines and lets a computer do the grillwork for him, conveniently so. No more mathematical tables - he now worries about vector calculus and eigenvalue realizations. His homeworks are now submitted on a digital dropbox - no more hardcopies. No more half-yearly and yearly exams, his agonies now revolve around conference papers gone bust, an obscure 'thesis' that refuses to take off, and the uncertainties of life, academic and otherwise, a year from date.
Baked potatoes for lunch - the 'kid' finally has a valid excuse for skipping lunch, but no one around to ask him for one. No more compound-wall powwows, his social interactions are now limited to over-the-internet conversations with people next door, and the door next to it. Conversations with people in flesh and blood end before they begin - a passing hi, a nod of the head, a wazza here, a howzitgoin' there. When someone said no man's an island onto himself, someone got it terribly wrong.
Evenings are now 'spent' on power naps that last a good 4-5 hours, before the somnathlon post-midnight. Dinner's digested over yet another rerun of a TV show or a movie buffered the previous night - no more bedtime tales. He dozes off with glasses on, headphones unplugged with the bellytop buffering movies for the the next night's dinner session. The fleeting moments before unconsciousness are now spent on regrets over yet another wasted day, over things that should have been done, and weren't; over delays, deadlines and due dates. Sleep - unbroken, blissful? Something like that.
The rot grows deeper - within and without. Times changed. Somewhere down the line, the little kid died.
7 comments:
I remember a time when not being able to play a specific piece on the piano used to send me into a torrent of tears. The irony of it all.
RIP children.
Sad. They call it life, but is it worth all the loss?
Could relate to most of what you said...left me feeling really sad...awesome post dude...how I wish I was still a kid...sigh!!
Gone are the days when all my thoughts revolved around finding the right way to finish a game level or formulating strategies to play better than my friends. Gone are the days when missing a day’s cricket was considered as a sin. Gone are the days when eating food was fun. I wonder if I ever missed a lunch or dinner in the first 21 years of my life. Now, it is a routine and I am lucky enough that my mom and dad are not around to scold me or make me eat by force.
nice post dude.
Very well written dude! As days go by, the pangs of regret build up, for we are 'loosing' a part of us.
Oooh, I remember those intact lunch boxes and getting an earful from my Mum every day.Grandpa's stories with surround sound effect. Playing every evening, skipping after school lunch just to go stand outside your chum's house and keep on yelling his/her name till his/her parents kick them out just to silence the racket.
Sob.
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