There's a park behind my house. My grandfather, Tata I call him in my mother tongue, goes there for his walks. That day, some day I forget when, depressed as I was with my life, I decided to go for a walk in this park. So off I went with my iPod, listening to some songs...
Anyways, as I was walking the walk in the park... I came across my grandfather. Beside him was a boy, about 6-7 years old, holding my grandfather's hand and walking beside him, occasionally nodding his head to something Tata was telling , and stopping now and then looking inquiringly at Tata. When I had, in my childhood, heard stories from Tata, maybe I looked like that kid. Maybe I had the innocence and the time then, to pause, to listen, to wonder, to laugh and to cry, to jump with joy, to just hold his hand and walk. As I passed by them, saying a "Tata, I felt like coming here today... So here I am, walking" type of "Hi" to my surprised Tata and giving him a knowing smile, I think I envied the child's innocence and wondered if and when I had lost the child in me.
I had walked a little further, with the songs, and wandering in my thoughts, when two grown up men, the kind of whom we call 'uncle', passed by. They were busy one was on the phone talking something, and the talk was as fast and brisk as his walk. The other was swinging his arms wildly in supposed exercise motions. They signified purpose in their every action, were intense in whatever they were doing. They seemed that they had a purpose to walk there, and they wanted to make maximum use of the time they had. I could guess from their walk and crisp talk that they were the men from the modern world, men whose time came at a premium, and who intended to change the world with their skills. Men who had no time for stories when they were creating their own, men who had no time to listen when they were to make theirs heard. Those gentlemen I can bet had hardly noticed anyone else in the park.
I stood between the two, Tata and the child, and those two and for a moment, wondered what I'd be. Then, in a moment of madness or call it what you may, I switched off my iPod, walked back to where my Tata was narrating a story to the kid, held his hand and walked with him.
Anyways, as I was walking the walk in the park... I came across my grandfather. Beside him was a boy, about 6-7 years old, holding my grandfather's hand and walking beside him, occasionally nodding his head to something Tata was telling , and stopping now and then looking inquiringly at Tata. When I had, in my childhood, heard stories from Tata, maybe I looked like that kid. Maybe I had the innocence and the time then, to pause, to listen, to wonder, to laugh and to cry, to jump with joy, to just hold his hand and walk. As I passed by them, saying a "Tata, I felt like coming here today... So here I am, walking" type of "Hi" to my surprised Tata and giving him a knowing smile, I think I envied the child's innocence and wondered if and when I had lost the child in me.
I had walked a little further, with the songs, and wandering in my thoughts, when two grown up men, the kind of whom we call 'uncle', passed by. They were busy one was on the phone talking something, and the talk was as fast and brisk as his walk. The other was swinging his arms wildly in supposed exercise motions. They signified purpose in their every action, were intense in whatever they were doing. They seemed that they had a purpose to walk there, and they wanted to make maximum use of the time they had. I could guess from their walk and crisp talk that they were the men from the modern world, men whose time came at a premium, and who intended to change the world with their skills. Men who had no time for stories when they were creating their own, men who had no time to listen when they were to make theirs heard. Those gentlemen I can bet had hardly noticed anyone else in the park.
I stood between the two, Tata and the child, and those two and for a moment, wondered what I'd be. Then, in a moment of madness or call it what you may, I switched off my iPod, walked back to where my Tata was narrating a story to the kid, held his hand and walked with him.
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