The Flight of A Butterfly

A s I flip through the albums in the closet, A wave of memories hits me. I am reminded of the days gone by Days of innocence and joy. What fun it was, going to school Bringing back just homework, not suppressed anger Oh what fun it was playing in the neighbourhood Coming home with scrapped knees and elbows, Not emotional injuries that cut through the heart Celebrating the rain, not cursing the traffic. Climbing the trees just to see what the world from above looks like. A cricket match in your area... Held more promise than the stock market. The Mickey Mouse watch gifted by your friends is always more special than Rado and Rolex….. Where maturity didn’t come in the way of living your heart out. The summer hols, with cousins and friends. The afternoons had no time for boredom. Full of cartoons, books and ice creams and toys, And huge fandoms Power Rangers and Ben 10. Trading cards of WWE, and Pokemon. Delightful; in the truest sense of the word. The birt...

Those of us who grew up in the early years of the 21st century in India would remember what a joy the kids' programs were during those days. They were so eagerly awaited in the evenings, so passionately debated during the lunch hour at school and so fondly remembered.  I bet everyone would relate to Tom & Jerry, Oswald, Ben 10, Pokemon, Winnie the Pooh, Timon and Pumba......in case you remember anything I may have missed out; feel free to mention it. ;) To be honest, these shows played an integral part in our lives. But today as I was flipping through the cartoon channels, after a very long time, I couldn't connect to the new shows. Somehow all of them seemed strange to me. Somehow Doraemon didn't interest me, and neither did any of those other shows. The use of language and the values being taught caught my attention. Well, put simply there is this cartoon called Oggy and the Cockroaches, and you should just see the tone and the content. I would begin to worry if ...

This is the story of a man and a little girl. A story which is not uncommon yet beautiful.               Let’s get started. This little girl grew up at his place. The ‘home’ was a heaven; tall trees-mango, neem and pomegranate surrounded it. A large courtyard with roses, jasmine, hibiscus and some wild flowers. Inside; bedrooms with beautiful windows.  Every morning sunlight came streaming in, waking everyone up. A big cupboard with books- Dickens, Tolstoy, Twain, The Bronte Sisters and countless other authors. The terrace was always the place for any sleepover.              The school was just a 10 minute walk. After school hours, she would spend the whole day playing with him- he was the student and she was the teacher (with a stick in her hand!!!).  In reality, he taught her. Everything which is immensely useful, practical and enjoyable. He taught her the Indian mythology and how to be polyglot....