Kids

 

I think I like kids. But I like imagining kids more than actually meeting them.

You see, sometimes, you meet those kids who have seen more than they should have or heard things they shouldn't have. And they don't know what to do with all that they have seen or heard or they end up using them at random things and random people. I have been the random person sometimes and it makes me all irritated. Some part of you is sorry for them, but most part of you feels guilty for something you didnt do. So you want to run away from that kid. You hope you can always avoid her. And when you're staying in these apartments waiting for the lift and these kids with divorced parents come around you and catch your leg.. believe me, their eyes and ears know a lot.. but their tongues don't and they say something they aren't supposed to say and they don't know it. They expect you to be surprised or something but all you feel is grossed and irritated..or at the most pitiful. And it isn't easy to pity a thing as heartless as a naughty kid, they'd use it to twist you to get what they want. And in while you lose all that pity and end up again avoiding them.
But not all kids are so, some are there. Real sweet and polite. You like them a lot and you don't know what to do with all that liking.
And there are those kids timid and frail, who if you say 'bow' a little too heavily would run up half a mile and hide behind those pillars and peep at you timidly. If you happen to pass by then on your way home near the lift, they kinda stick their chin down and look at you like they're afraid you might harm them. You'd just want to take 'em in and hum sweet and sing to them till they start singing along. You'd want to do anything they name just to have 'em not look at you like that, all cautious. But they wouldn't speak, and you'd end up asking if they had their dinner or givin them a chocolate and not knowing what else to do when they nod their head and take a step back.  Then you'd go away, walking a little fast or a with a conscious attempt to lower your pace to your house. Because, more than chocolates or anything, your absence gives them a more free movement.                                                                                                                                              But there is just one creed of kids who can move you towards hating them. And you still can't hate them completely and it frustrates you. You know these over-smart kids who sass their parents, wear lip sticks, not in the kid way, but in the really well way. And you want to go an wipe it off their lips. And sometimes they make you feel sorry for them or something but then they don't let you feel sorry for long. And these kids can make any person angry easy, and when you look all angry, they don't smile like foolish kids, ice or  fear like sweet or timid kids, they look real contemptible. And the higher your anger goes, the higher their contempt. And you can't take it because the kid is winning over you. It sticks through yer ego. And they lose people after people like that. When these kids come and demand money or an eraser, almost anyone in the world except their parents would want to say no or some might even want to snatch it away after they've got it.  Why, I think even the parents want to say no, but they get tired of all those scenes and all and they say yes without meaning to more sweetly than necessary to keep the bonds unscathed.  
And then there are these tiny kids who simply look too cute to be hated. And they have these big eyes and all. They simply catch your heart. But then they don't know what to do with it. So they just play around and go away. And their mothers get all insecure or something and take 'em away from your arms. And some of them are even sweet enough to say they wont come to their mothers.. you'd feel all high, but you'd want the mother not to feel too insecure as after all they are the ones cleaning their diapers, so you kinda give 'em away. And they sorta look at you. It breaks your heart right away and you want to crawl up in a corner and never give him away. It happens you know. There was this baby whom I sang sleepy songs and rhymes to for hours on a cool summer evening with all that breeze floating around. I could tell you he enjoyed it. He is the only one who really enjoyed my singing you know. He even joined me...and tried to sing 'dancing bears and painted wings' and he not even once mocked at my accent or anything. He just went on smiling like that in white cotton clothes, smelling of baby powder and milk, and humming tunes with me. Even his weight was such a warm soft comfortable thing on the hands. And then, his mother tried taking him away and he wouldn't go. Man, I wanted to take him home right away. But then they played it all unfair, told him lies that they were going out and  going to see lorries and buy chocolates. Phonies, lied to him and took him away. The next time I saw the kid after months ... he knew how to walk and all..he didn't recognize me. He didn't remember me one ounce. And all these friends with me were shifting him from one to another, I didn't want to touch the kid ever again. I looked at him real slow and real long and went away to the ground to play. I didn't see him again. Thank god. I didn't.  

11 June 2010

For once, the monsoons have entered our place at the right time. After humid grey mornings, in the evening we can feel cold straight drops of rain piercing your back if you happen to be out. Well coming to that, it can pierce your front too, but you wont have the grit to stand against such chattering rain that way. And then, there's grandma here, cooking hot spicy food every day. And then, there are the mangoes delicious, rich, sweet, glorious, glorious mangoes, oh god. I can't count the number of them I've had this summer. And there are friends available. Summer hols. and all. Some passing by reader would think of this as a wonderful summer, nah, no, this is by far one of the worst summers I've had, with not enough play...as suddenly all my pals seemed to remember their 'age' or rather I'm afraid I admit they're slipping into the middle age laziness at 18. Can't do a damn thing about anything if people stay stuck to their pc's all night, wake up late and again get stuck to their pc's and at about 7 in the evening, come down for a while for a little gossip and small talk. Geez! they aren't even singing free anymore and they'd probably murder me in my sleep for writing all that. But I'll write more. They're all good, happy, cool people. But I liked the confused, energetic, erreneous ones. It was nice. All those fights in the game.
I'll tell you what it was like before.
I used to wake up at 5 am or they'd call me then. I'd brush, take my 'lucky' badminton racket(s) and a book inside the cover...all the coins and little notes and stick them again in the badminton cover...then wear the shoulder strap and blue and white nike(gosh, all that play ripped one pair off).. and then...all jingling with the rattling loose change music I'd go to seven hills. And then there'd be a couple of em already awake..and we'd decide who'd go to whose house to plague and pull em off their beauty sleep. I'd mostly volunteer to go to my best buddie's house and trust me she can be the laziest slimy thing alive before waking up. Personally I believe she used to have compact Trojan wars inside her head on whether or not to surrender her precious dreams to idiot friends. And she, her sis and we used to all go down in our slacks and start the badminton...well, that was the year before...last year, after losing amazing sets of 8 matches in a row with various partners and various reasons, I gave up badminton...and took to simply running around trying to play leg-touch with all those who didnt have the space to occupy the court...but all those years before last..we used to start badminton and play like..till ten, with sore hands...and all those little stones everywhere on the road and around, used to get little black clots in our feet for atleast two of us everyday. Then all tired and stuff, we'd collect the change and buy water packets and those one or two and a half rupee maaza packets..and I'd go home dragging my feet, wishing I lived this side of the street..., 10 blocks closer, 9 blocks closer..and so on till I reached home..by that time, most probably mum would've gone to the office..and I'd sleep it off...afternoon was t.v. time... some of them in seven hills preferred to spend it playing uno and other card games. Then we'd go off in the evening, and I loved them pretty dearly too, because we'd play these chillar games with lots of running around, falling down and laughter. We'd play, out-out, cho-cho, current shock, chain cut, hide and seek and such miscelleneous games and on some ill-fated evenings we played even kabaddi. By 8.30 or so, we'd again be too hurt with all those uneven bits of tar road stones stuck into our feet and the evening wind gets simply too irresistable to be forgotten in speedy games, then we'd sit and play antakshari or dumb charade ( that's dumsharaatz you know) and they were so refreshing after all that play and stuff... they weren't those girly games we laughed about anymore. They were those group games we laughed in an entirety of good humor and happiness.
As the clock's hand starts crossing nine, one or many mums would be screaming from the apartments at one or many of their respective kids...and we'd slowly grow thinner in number. That would be when I'd realize I can't stay on the road singing with pals all night .. then I'd start the bargaining with people on how far they'd accompany me home. Usually it's the temple, but then temple turns out into the car, car turns out into the tree, and then they'd all be lined up on the left and right because I whine I'm too cluttered to cross the road and they'd believe and help me across it..then the girls go home...but the guys come on till home.. I usually tell them I'd give them lemonade, but I know I dont have to. They'll know it'll be too late to drop into. All along the way, we'd talk of all the so called 'item' candidates. The funniness of our friends, the funniness of our 'not so friendly friends' and so on and so forth, and playing around in between. I'd end up wishing home was a block away, 2 blocks away and so on and so forth. It's nice to have pals who stay close and come by with wings at the least intimation.
And now, we barely see each other every 3 or 4 days. We're busy, I know. But we had been busy before too. We couldnt possibly have a tighter scheduled plan than those Eamcet years we played through... Sigh. And there go the bacha party too Ja-kun. All too old to run. But we'd stay young, wont we dear? And weds never ever say no to leg-touch, darling darling ja, darling darling pals.
It's been five glorious summers since we started playing together.
That'd be a semi-decadal celebration for me I suppose. And yes, thank you guys for sticking by through all those times i screamed, fussed, lectured, chased, apologised and ate your heads. Whether or not we go on playing and screaming, fussing, lecturing, chasing and apologising, stay in touch. Man, I didn't believe time passed by so quickly. But I suppose, through happy times it always does and ends up assimilated into sweet memories and significant lessons.