|
||||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I wish I were a Child Again Have you ever looked upon a child’s face earnestly and find out how happy they seem to be? Just think about their everlasting smiling face. How cute and innocent that looks! Like a tender flower that just started blooming, showing its pulchritude to the whole world and like a soft, clear dewdrop on the leaves of a lily in the early mornings of the fall. Now turn your face and look at the adult who is accompanying the same child. What do you find this time? The troubles and sorrows reflected by the sad and feigning smile that is synthetic and hollow? The worries and tears flawlessly shown by the eyes now look quite perplexed and tired? Like the leaves of the grass that turned pale yellow due to the frozen frost in the winter and like the porous rocks on the old hills eaten away by the dry winds for ages? I wish I were a child again. So that I could wander around the large cotton fields and play with the soft fluffy cotton flowers all day. So that I could dance with the wind in the large flower garden all turned golden by the yellow color of the daffodils. I remember those days when I was totally free of the mundane troubles. I was always encircled by love and care of my parents. I remember one time when I was playing with my friends in a sway, and I fell off it and landed way below with my face flat on the ground. There was blood all over my face and tears all over my mother’s eyes. My mom was very upset that day. About a month ago from today, I was frying noodles in my kitchen and suddenly the hot oil caught fire and in the effort of putting it out, a large drop of burning hot oil dropped into my hand. It hurt me so bad that it is very hard to explain in mere words. Above all there was nobody to take care of it. The physical pain that I experienced that day was nothing in regard to the emotional anguish. I was actually missing my parents, especially my mom, who used to think of me as a fragile glass that might fall from a height and break into pieces. Who used to say: “Don’t go outside without wearing a warm jacket. It’s cold outside. My child, you’re old enough to take care of yourself. I don’t have to remind you again and again?” As a reply to that I’d like to say, “But my dear Mom, your reminiscent behavior actually reminds me and forces me back to the sentiment, the feeling and the emotion of being a child again. I never liked growing and becoming adult. I just wanted to be and remain child, forever. Don’t remind me of this bitter truth of being an adult.” Alas! Nobody is here to listen to my silent prayer. I realized soon that I was an adult and I have to take care of myself. Is the meaning of “adulthood” is just to suffer and suffer alone? I wish I were a child again. So that I could tell the whole world that I’m free now. So that I could ask more childish questions - the questions concerning enthralling nature. There are a lot of times when we consider many things in our life to be for granted and take it easily. I think one of the most prominent of them is the childhood. Every person who is born in this world has to be a child first and then become an adult and die someday, but we consider the day of our death very far in the future; whereas, it may come and strike us tomorrow. This is a universal truth. Did you know about this truth when you were a child? Did you ever make any kind of effort to even think about it? Were you not thinking more on playing with the friend in the neighborhood or going to the place where there were children and only children, enjoying with a playful mind, rather than paying bills and haunting jobs? I wish I were a child again, so that, I could live without the shadow of creeping death above me. So that I could play and only play with all the children of the world without the fear of getting fired tomorrow from my job. Children always have questions concerning their curiosity. They always want to explore how the world is and how the things are always like that way and not as the way they want it to be? Once when I was still at the age of childhood, I was walking with my mom towards the gate of our house. There was a big tree just beside the gate. Suddenly, I stopped and was unwilling to take any more steps. She was surprised by my attitude and asked me, “Why are you not coming along with me?” I, in return, asked her a simple, childish question. “Will that huge tree over there do anything to me if I walked in front of it? Won’t it hurt me?” She laughed and laughed that whole day. She still recalls that day sometimes when I talk with her on the phone. She just says, “You grew up so fast, my child.” Yes, I really grew up very fast. I did not get a full chance to enjoy my childhood. Those innocent childhood days filled with lively colors of life, enjoyment and fun. Those unforgettable childish questions I used to ask in order to quench my thirst of curiosity. Now I know that those were the golden days of my life. Those were the actual profits of being born in this world. I also know that those days are now blown over by the bitter wind of time and I am left alone as the residual rock of being an adult. Those days came and went away and will never come back like the flow of water in the river Niles or a candle burning in a dark room slowly becoming smaller and smaller. Those days are now pushed far back into my memory and I can recall those days only in my pensive mood. I can pretend, but however hard I try, I know that I cannot be a child again. 27 Feb. 1997 Bellevue Nebraska Anurakta Shrestha Omaha, Nebraska |
|||
