I Wish I Was A Child Again

My life is like a roller coaster ride. It has its fun, but it is going too fast for me to enjoy those moments. Today my life is ruled by the clock. Everything I do has a schedule. What time to get up, what time to sleep, when to meet with whom… even the time I have to go to sleep. Every second has its own importance, as I am chasing my dreams.

There was a time, when I was there for all those little things. They meant a lot to me then. A minute to say “I Love You” to my mom and give her a kiss and a hug, an hour to play shuttle with my sister be it rain or shine. I was there to help my dad with the repairs. Now I feel like I am a visitor in my own home.

Today it is raining. The monsoon has started. It is my favorite time of the year. Yet my life is dominated by the schedule, and I have a business meeting today. Lunch with a client… if all goes well, I could land the biggest deal of my career. I have to be there sharp at 12pm. I get ready and leave for the restaurant, blocking out cries of protest from my sister. I had promised to play shuttle with her. Another promise I have to break.


As I drive, my thoughts wander back in time. We were best friends, my sister and I. We used to race back in the pouring rain, shouting at each other. I always used to let her win. We would stop by a little roadside café, eat bhel puri and drink steaming coffee. After we reach back home, she used to dry my hair for me. She never let me do it. A hug from her and I would feel the warmth again. Now by the time I get back from work, she is fast asleep.

Sounds of traffic get me back to the present. I sadly wish I had time for those little things. They mean a lot to me, to my loved ones. I can see little children on the footpath, with paper boats, playing in the rain, splashing each other happily.
Seeing them play in the rain, I look up to the heavens and make a wish.

God, I wish I was a child again.


Poetry & writing to me are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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