That must have been the life! Life was beautiful.
Life was beautiful when a paper made airplane flies high then the other flying insects. Time is a funny thing. It has this way of wearing down memories until they are like the soft edges of an old photograph — I can still see us on that cloudy gray morning, laughing at nothing at all, but the image no longer cuts into me the way it once did. When we were child, we would never be at home. In those days we spent our leisure playing dandi biyo, kabaddi, chungi, guccha, baghchal. We would be out with our friends chasing after dragon flies and dandelions in a field of endless flowers, with joyous abandonment. We would be on our bicycles we would roam. We would build our own house, high up the trees. We used to be waiting eagerly for Saturday to come so that we could spend it on some parks and garden. Now the parks are so quiet, it is hard to see children outside, not even once in blue moon. There is no skipping, hopscotch, and marbles. The lively moments are captured inside a room when we open our computers and it’s our door of enjoyment with nature’s pleas we shut. We aren't experiencing life. We're losing moments with every tap. It's cheating, really. We may be physically present with our friends and loved ones but we're texting someone else... or checking a sports score... or tweeting... or reading.
