Of simplicity and of childhood.

Whenever I think of childhood I am reminded of my 'Hop-a-little' red schoolbag with a picture of three bunnies, my blue tiffin box with Maggi for lunch, another blue tiffin box with broken crayons - no way to distinguish between the two other than the bag compartment in which they were kept, a blue Mickey mouse pencil box gifted by my aunt, brown covers, name tags or stickers, as we called them in those days - nothing fancy, yet so precious in their own ways. The cold mornings, the warm noons, the rainy evenings and the lovely moon-lit goodnights, all weaved into one childhood weather in my memory, almost mythical. The fragrant spring, the orange and festive autumn, the summer breaks filled with fun, frolic and some cable television after some unrelenting pursuits and pleadings, and the winter celebrations with red and white caps - these little things have all become a singular song, each stanza narrating the story of a different season, or of a different year, marking an all-encompassing childhood. The happy times and the tough times - all blend into one poem, however it is not a monotone. It can be sung with peaks and troughs, can be painted with polychrome hues - not missing a single beat, a single colour and strangely enough you can still find a dominant undertone of exuberance and optimism, of courage and self-reliance. As an adult, I often go back to those days to seek help from my past self because strangely enough those tiny hands had a bigger heart and a bolder mind. The lesson here is to swim with the ebb and the flow, get mixed in all colours including the blacks, the whites and the greys but always be mindful of your dominant undertone - your colour of self assurance, mine is red and black, which is yours?