More often than not, while doing the things that I do, meeting the people that I meet and facing times and circumstances that I face, I think back on the time of the cliched age of innocence. 

Happiness at a time meant owning a Pilot microtip pen. Or to own a Sheaffer. Going to the teacher with the monthly test/exam asking for a 're-total' or ask for an extra mark and feel proud to get 47 and 1/2. (on 50) Where 1/2 was written like a 1 and a stylized E in red. A so-called fashion show, where someone would be crowned Miss 6A. With other classmates for judges. Of 'crowns' made of pink cardboard and sequins. Of referring to glitter as 'jigina'. Of being caught by the Physics teacher on "WHY DID YOU HAVE A  MISS 6A CONTEST??"

Of watching the faces of the top three rank holders in class figure who trounced the other by a fraction of a quarter mark. And then the utter surprise on their faces to find an underdog. Of crushes and I LOVE YOU greeting cards when, I wonder if people even understood what all that meant. Of unfortunately watching a boy who gave a so-called card, getting thrashed by the Mathematics teacher.

I happened to think about the Pilot pen and the Geometry box and everything else a couple of days ago and read a lovely post by one of my friends on similar lines. 

I wonder if as children, we had something called an Ego. If we bothered about who had the last word. Where the biggest disappointment would probably be not having your parent come home in time, or get to see you favorite TV Show, or maybe get fever before a game or something, but be deliriously happy if it had to be about missing an exam. I was a weird kid though. I remember my mother telling me that they (my grandmom and I ) used to be scared to tell me that Saturday and Sunday meant no school. Heard I used to bawl that there was no school. I finished an entire year's work book in a day and got slapped by the teacher for that. And then my mother asking the teacher not to beat me if I finished books like that, (because she was in a dilemma wondering what to do for an entire year) and that she would supply more if needed.

Happiness was also going to school on a rained out day. Being one of the very few kids in class. I don't wax eloquently about college because I personally had decided no college in Chennai was going to let me go without harping on the attendance and to me music was more important than marking attendances. Hence it was Madras Univ for me.

In retrospect, its funny how the word "partiality" was some sort of a buzz word during school. Getting my LadyBird bicycle. Pink and all. The only thing I remember which was pink in my entire stuff of things that I had. I could not bear the mauve version that they had. Pink was the only other option that I had. The basket and all that. Buying milk from a vending booth. Calm. Quiet.

Would we be happier if we remembered to remain the children that we were? 

Why did so many of us grow up in ways we should not have. Wonder if it is growing up at all. In a lot of cases, we have grown down. Shrunk our horizons. Love less. Accept less. Listen even less. 

With so much noise, within and without, who is even bothered about listening. Whether it is listening to oneself or listening to someone else? 

For once I do not have a wish to end this post with. 

As an afterthought, maybe I do. 

I wish for you that you can play out the memories that give you a sense of poignancy, a yearning for a time that is gone, even if it is only for a little while, something that leaves your throat a little constricted and your heart a little heavy, in your mind's eye. Something that leaves you with a watery smile. And then of course all our everythingness and nothingness will take over. As it usually does.
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