Back To The Swings

Exploring of the newly found campus led us to lots of discoveries including a children’s park right within our reach. Few steps from our hostel and violà we reached the park….it had swings, slides, see-saws and other small entertaining pieces of games.  Despite our ages the urge to get on a swing was pretty unavoidable. It was like the feeling you get when you are served with pure homely food after a struggle filled stay in a hostel. Sheer anxiousness, and way too lot of temptation to just feel the fresh air against our faces, to swing on a swing. As simple as that. Of course the temptation was surrendered to and we sat on the swing; me and my friend. In a few moments we started swinging in the fastest way possible.

The brush of air against our faces, the way the exciting gush of wind blew our hair, the closer view of the sky and thanks to our weight, the creaking sound of the swings accompanied the feeling of childhood. It was intense freedom, away from all the worries, away from all the strains of being a teenager, away from tensions and all the other things that pester our lives constantly and daily. When the creaking sound of the swings increased, we decided for the best to get down of it. To save our bodies and the swings from an inevitable tragic fall. I walked back to the hostel talking to my friend, which partially concerned our lives and the other half was concerned about the people around us, whose aura we didn't like much.

Getting back to the room and dating with the books was what followed, but my mind was still trapped within the park. The boundaries of the park enclosed my spirits and my body was still on one of the swings; my hands clutching the chains that held the swing in place afraid of falling down. My mind raced back to the flashback images of when my father used to tie a swing onto the branch of a nearby tree, the way my elders and sister used to push me on it, to propel the movement of the swing faster and better. And most of all, the enthralling feel of freedom on it. It couldn't be compared with any luxuries I had now, life was on it- I felt at a point. Beautiful, free and simple.

The next day almost at the same time we took a walk in the campus and made our way to the park, an involuntary calling that led us there. To our astonishment and shock, the swings were locked. The parallel chains that we held on was locked to each other. It was pretty much of a new barrier being set. My eyes next fell upon a board that said “Only for children from the age of 6-12”. Had the board been put up this morning or had it been there ever since, I did not know. Anyway I spotted it now only. I swore under my breath, and thought to myself that given a chance they would have locked the see-saws and all other things there. Sadly none of it had a parallel chain like that of a swing.

The words on the board flickered before me every now and then. The walk continued and I brooded a lot. My feet kept up the steady pace and the rest of me was caught in a mesh wire of thoughts. The excitement with which I had started my walk had vanished and all I was left of was some boundaries, undefined yet there vivid and clear. The liberating feeling on the swing had the effect of heroin in the blood, it was addictive and I urged for more of it. That feeling had once been there in the bother less days of childhood that passed without any tension, anxiety or stress. All we had to think of was food, sleep and play times. That feeling had returned to me for a moment the previous day but was snatched mercilessly from me.

When someone out there had fastened the locks on the swing they would certainly have not thought of someone’s intense feeling being hurt, the freedom snatched and boundaries defined.

Since the day we left swings and got involved seriously in our lives we had somewhere forgotten that addictive pleasure all these things gave us back then.

When I got into the achy years of teens I found nothing odd, or out of the normal in my life except for some really painful acne's and an alarmingly increasing number of subjects. I continued my life of fun, I played pranks on people both harmless and harmful, I still enjoyed watching Tom chase Jerry all around the house as well as their cuddly moments, I enjoyed reading Suppandi tales and laughed at the simplest and idiotic jokes. I loved throwing a tantrum whenever I was denied of something not-so-important. How I still adore clinging onto the pallu of my mother’s sari. And most of all my mouth still waters when we say lollipops.

But it wasn’t that easy getting away with so much mischief done. Someone somewhere had decided the rules of growing up and many a times I got reminded too of them. All I got to hear was taunts from various people in various tones which all meant the same- “please grow up”. Some said it with utter bemusement at our still childish natures, some said it with full of irritation, some with anger and a few of the others in a fun way. But all of them meant it for sure.

Now all I ask is a simple question…What is growing up all about?

According to those people growing up certainly meant that: you put on the i-don’t-give-a-damn face when you walk around, to stop laughing when silly jokes are cracked, so sit around people talking about intelligent stuffs about global warming or pollution for instance, to get hooked with an encyclopedia full of knowledge, stop eating lollipops in public and there it goes blah blah blah…. All in all: quit fun and be serious, even a smile was a luxury to afford in the world of grown-ups.

Sometimes when I spot a shooting star, I close my eyes and make a wish: to erase the number of years in my life and go down to 2 or 3. To stay frozen there, never ever to grow up.  To bid a goodbye to the wrinkles, furrow lines, sad smiles and a poor brain always seeking a little peace.

For me growing up was a very simple thing. There was nothing to worry about, a secret as easy as anything else to decipher. As the years pass by and makes me old, I think about trivial things like a grown up, make decisions like a grown up but I live always in my early years of 2 and 3. I find nothing immature in challenging the world’s notion on growing up, if they have done it so can we in our own ways but. Way back then, we never had difficulty in making friends, we did it almost anywhere even on adjacent swings. But as people started really growing up, even returning a smile is very much heavy a burden. Even when we text ROFL to anyone, we hardly must have smiled at the joke. A lot of things go on in our mind that we can’t find time for a smile, or a laugh.

Dig through your memories to find the answer to one simple query as to when did you all last break into fits of laughter or really roll on the floor laughing, the last time you made a new friend, or simply the last time you slept peacefully without the interruption of formula-nightmares. Many of us may cringe at these. If quitting these will make me a perfect specimen for a grown up, I must say that I would hate to grow.

If anyone really wants to grow, grow up by challenging the thoughts of grownups.  Show them that we can grow in a childish way too. Grow up in a way that you neither lose the pleasures of childhood nor miss the beauty of ageing, in a way you blend into both a group of kids as well as a group brooding on nuclear missions. Watch both terminator and bob the builder, and above all never forget to laugh and roll about just because of the fact that you have grown. 

Go back to the swings and feel that enthralling gush of happiness, liberty; just to re live that childhood once again.