I loved train rides as a child. The views, the open skies, the wind in my hair and the differences in terrain, people, customs, dialects and food would amaze me. To an eight year old, who's world was confined to roughly a ten square kilometre area in the city, train rides were portals to another world.
At nights i would sit up near the window and observe the black night and it's inhabitants.Electric wires running parallel to our train would run a marathon with us, going up and down, forming a crest at a transformer or a pole, and then descending into a gentle trough, then up again.... You could see blackened silhouettes of trees, poles and buildings passing by and the train lights reflecting on the ground whooshing past us. The moon was a co-passenger, tied to one of the bogeys with a really, really long piece of thread. The only thing constant were the stars and the soothing rhythm of the train chugging on slick rails. Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle.
These sights, repetitive they might be, were an experience for young minds who look at the world with different eyes. Adult eyes don't see such things. Adult eyes only see things as they are.
Some years later, I became an adult and in the process of gaining the knowledge and capacities of a full grown mind, I lost my imagination and I had no way of finding it, till my daughter was born.
In her vivid imagination, there's little difference between the real and the imaginary. Bananas are telephones. Her toys have lives, preferences and names just like real people because her toys are real. Her cup of milk has chocolate islands. And Humpty Dumpty is someone to be scared of.
Everyday is a new discovery along with Anika. Everyday I look at things anew. It's like I'm living my life with Anika-colored-glasses so that everything looks new, possible, sparkly and good.
On your birthday, my darling little girl, I hope and pray that you never lose this capacity to imagine and believe. That you never fall prey to the obstinacy of a limited mind. That you always look and find wonder and ceaseless possibilities in the most mundane of things.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL! 😍😘💞🤗
Sometimes reality hurts hard and dreams work as petrol in the 🔥.
Well written poem Sis.
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Petrol or even a sedative. But yes ultimately an addiction also only fuels the fire. Have a great day with your Valentine, Dada 😁
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Was in hospital Sis 😥😥😥
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Kya valentine??? 😥😥😥
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Hmmm. I understand. Go home and rest
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Rested and woke Sis 😂
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Good. Happy that you did 😊
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I love the playful pace in this one.
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Thanks Simon thought the intent was anythung but playful. Hope you’re having a good V-Day 😊
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Ouch! This feeling was familiar…!!! Glad I am over it long time back…! Well written Pradita.
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Thanks a lot Aditi. Yes, some of us have faced that sort of loss, either because of death or because of abandonment.Either way it hurts those who are left behind. Thanks for reading 🙂
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The flow and contrast in emotions is beautifully done, Pradita!
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Thanks a lot Vishal. How ahve you been?
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Been good. Thank you!
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Glad to know that 🙂
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