Sweet little goodness of moments…comes in little packets of joy.

Out at about 9:30 am, I was waiting to catch an auto at the stand when I saw a school bus pass by. It was packed with overwhelmed kids, who must be in grade 6 or 7. Singing out songs aloud, clapping, some eating chips, some waving and making faces at the crowd, they were all pumped up. Of course they were off for a picnic, for two obvious reasons, one it was 9:30 am and two it’s a good feeling to go to school but the excitement like there’s matched only of a study free-classless day.

Oh the joys of childhood and school days, when we cribbed to be grown ups. And today unlike teachers and homework we have bosses and deadlines where we have both home and office work that never seems to end.  Picnics, well we all go out for a movie or an outing but nothing can match being with friends, together on board in a school bus and doing all that a teacher asked us not to.

But again, our times today are also great, which I soon realized when I saw an aged woman standing next to me. Moving her neck looking at the slowly passing by bus, her eyes met mine. She had the same joy as mine but the glare in her eyes was brighter than mine. Instantly I knew, she too was on a nostalgic trip. And then she smiled at me and said ‘joys come in little packets…you are still young, live each moment.’ And she moved towards the auto that just came to a halt, and all I could do to thank her with a smile and wave her goodbye.

Little girl in the veranda

Holding her dad’s finger, she walked in awe, ogling at the bright colours and shapes. Her tiny feet adorned with anklets, resonated joy. Her laughter soothing like sound of chimes. With pure innocence she shouts aloud babaaa, and points at a beautiful necklace, displayed at a jewelry store.

Definitely, girls have an eye for bling. And her baba, who was dressed in a solid white shirt and khakhi trousers, glanced up on her daughter’s choice, her love at first sight. Baba, smiling at her, with a though of her wedding day in the back of his mind, nodded and coochie cooed her that the day is still far away…

Soon I drowned into a pool of nostalgia and was drifted back in time, to my childhood days. I was her age, circling around the verandah at the glimpse of my father. Maa tells me this incidence often that when papa used to come back from his distant braches as he was posted outside our hometown then, Mathura; I use to shy away, giggle and run around the verandqa with ultimate joy. He used to smile and laugh at the sight. All his fatigue of travelling long distance was forgotten. He would call out for me with his arms wide open, and after a little jog around I used to run towards him, excited for his warm embrace. Happiest moments of our lives! Though I can’t recall the details but can still sense his lovely embrace that assured me that I was safe.

How strange it is, over two decades down the lane, the same girl now runs towards another man, her soul mate. The change being that the father himself hands over his daughter to her man. Her anklets reverberate joy, now in her new house. But her hero still remains her papa, and it is a fact that every girl somewhere sees a reflection of her father in his husband.