Blog

I slowly picked up the stone when no one was looking – it was quite flat and smooth. Placing it in between the 3 fingers of my right hand, I slightly twisted for a sidearm motion & then with all my power threw the spinning stone on the surface of the water, at a perfect angle of 20 degrees. The stone skipped seven times, before it finally sank. Still 5 less than 12.

While returning from school, a few of us used to always gather around a nearby pond – where such skip-stone was played and the champion of our group could do a skip of 12 … the record the child in me is chasing till date.

Today is the 14^th of November. The Children’s Day.

Like every year, this date is being celebrated as the Children’s Day to commemorate the birth anniversary of the 1^st Prime Minister of independent India, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru – who was very famously fond of children.

Though this day is meant to raise awareness about the rights, education, and welfare of children, to me, it is also a day to pay tribute to the child in us & reminisce the golden days of our childhood.

So that the child in us is remembered, cared for & yes - occasionally pampered. Like indulging in that skip-stone.

So that the child in us stays a child forever.

When I was very young, I remember in winter a big tent used to be put up on the ground close to my home, where there’d be kirtan* performances for 72 continuous hours. Though I didn’t care much about the spiritual song-and-dance, it was an event I looked forward to – because it gave me an opportunity to accompany my grandfather (who was a regular in such spiritual gatherings) and use it as an excuse to stay out late. All this to savor the delectable hot Aloo dam (potato curry) from the makeshift food stalls. Having street foods was a strict no-no - but tasting that forbidden delicacy with my friends who could also sneak out from home, while being fully wrapped in a thick woollen shawl amidst the foggy winter air filled with the sound of cymbals & chants – used to be as magical a winter experience as any.

My favourite Aloo Dum ..

And can you blame me for secretly looking for that Aloo dum recipe every winter even now.

To me such experiences are but footprints in the sands of time, as the child in us moves on. From one Children’s Day to the next.

Like that experience in school, where a teacher, had the habit of taking a round of the classroom when he lectured, causing much discomfort to us backbenchers. So, one day, we pushed all our benches together to form a kind of barricade so that no one could get in … and then occupied our respective seats with innocent faces.

The message was delivered quite clearly as we could see the teacher turn red in the face but could not say anything as there were no rules broken.

But we did break the rules the day we were about to lose that local cricket match – with hordes of us boys rushing in to the field to prevent the opponent from playing.

In later years, whenever I’ve accompanied junior to his school matches, I used to remember that incident…

In fact, even now, while sitting alone to watch a cricket match, that memory flashes in my mind.

Glass marbles - a prized possession of childhood

And the child in me, wants to go back there. To those halcyon days of colorful abandon.

The child in us, needs an out… the child wants to remain a child.

And isn’t that good for artists?

"All children are born artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up," – this Picasso quote remains a personal favorite as somewhere deep down in me, this resonates as being absolutely true.

Who can forget those great masterpieces we have painted in the wall with crayons, much to the chagrin of our parents or housekeepers. Those sculptures using bottles and bath towels. Or that great symphony using the crockery & cutlery in an empty kitchen. 

I remember having used many things other than paint, to put up on my wall canvas – like eaten orange wedges or shoe polish. So that everyday there was a different painting.

Though sometimes it bordered on mischief, there were no inhibitions, no shame in communicating what we felt – they were like poetry straight from the heart. It’s only in later years, when we got conscious about our surroundings & “what others would say”, that we shrunk and became too intimidated to do something we feel was right.

How many times have I stopped before drawing that line on paper?

How many times did I consider using that red color?

How many times did I ask myself before uploading a painting on my website?

And herein what helps being a child inside … you can throw all caution to the wind.

So that you can paint once again with the abandon of a 6-year-old!

Or throw a skip-stone.

My yin-Yang shells…

Though I agree, I’ve still got to try my hand at spinning a top & then flying a kite. Some day.

But not before adding to my collection, the prized yin-yang shells I picked up from Manori** beach this time.

Wish you a happy Children’s Day.

*[ Kirtan is a communal, call-and-response chanting practice originating from ancient Indian spiritual traditions, especially Hinduism and Sikhism]

**[A small fishing village near Mumbai, occupied by erstwhile East Indians]