I remember feeling restless in class. Looking at my watch every other second, cursing at the hands that told me there was still time.
I would run the instant the bell rang. Smelling the air of freedom at last, running to catch the first bus I could. The conductor never liked me, or any other kid who used student concessions, but I dint care. The hate was mutual. I’d jump down the bus, run home, throw my bag and run to the place I loved. The lush green ground that spread far and wide, the dark brown pitch in the center, the guys sitting on the neighboring fence (this was the fence to my house by the way...my mom never appreciated this...I could never understand what the fuss was about)...
I would be tensed as to whether I’d get a chance to play. The first twenty two lucky ones could play. I remember not being that good, cutting any chances of reservation in the team. The joy if I got to play, the dejection if I didn’t. Emotion in either case was strong for the 14 year old in me. The little kid who was tired of the bag of books that was just a little less heavy than him, the prick who loathed special classes (and normal classes for that matter) , the clean bath's, the homework and everything his mom thought was good for him.
Today I miss the nasty prick. I wish I cud meet him again. Maybe I could find him in the kids who have taken over.
I was back home after 5 years of college. I had my evening tea and walked out, seeing if I fall upon anything interesting to pass time. I walk through the ground once again. This time, there was not a soul in sight.
Where were the kids?
I saw them in the end.
I was wrong about finding myself in them after all. There they were, fiddling with their fancy gadgets; hi end mobile phones and mp3 players, all the joys of the world in the
What went wrong? What changed them?
They do not know the joys hidden in the heavenly green ground that is waiting for their running feet …or they just choose to ignore.
What ever the reason, I pray for them, I pray for their lost innocence. I pray for us.