When we are kids, we want some things. We may not always justify why, but we still want it. Just for the love of it. And if we do not get it, me make noise. Lots of it. Like the world is falling. Tears come down unheralded. Sobs persistent. But why? Just because, we can not comprehend why we can not have something which we truly want. It happened with me once as well. But, the thing for which I cried was not really a thing. It was not a toy or an extra slice of chocolate. So, instead of trying to explain it, let me just describe the incident in a way as well as I can remember.
I had just started going to school. My parents had enrolled me to a one named Sarvoday Sishu Niketan, which was barely 5 mins walk from my home. I was a well behaved kid (and still am ;) ). My parents had not much trouble in trying to convince me to go to school. And since I started attending school fairly early, I think, I was not more than 5 at that time. A lady used to come to my house daily in the morning and used to take my hand and would take me to the school along with half a dozen other kids. It was so simple. Come to the house, take my hand and off to school. Papa would leave for office soon after seeing me happily go. Until one day..
The lady was a bit late in coming to my house. Unususl for her. So we waited. Then a time came, when waiting was not an option. So, papa said,'ok, get ready beta, I will take you to the school today.' My heart just leapt upon hearing this. During the whole process of 'picking the bag, taking the tiffin, checking the water bottle', the only thing which went through my mind was - 'papa is taking me to school.Papa is taking me to school.' Then fate intervened.
The lady came, just at the time, papa was taking my tiny hand into his. Holding it tightly, firmly, lovingly. Just in time, my papa thought with relief. Just not the right time, I thought with extreme sadness. I had so convinced myself that I will go to school with papa within seconds of hearing it from papa itself, that the thought of it not happening was beyond my simplest imagination. (At age 5, every imagination is simple. We do not know, if any imagination is wild). Papa just gave my hand to the lady to take me off. I guess, I was just too dumbstruck to protest. I did not say anything, but I think my face gave away. Papa knew that this is not right. Not at this time. He understood that he had promised me something (okay..he had not promised...but atleast I thought..that if you say something that you will do..it is as good as a promise). But office commitments forced him to abide by what he had done. As I slowly trudged away from home, towards the school, I kept looking back. Like giving papa(or mummy..) a sign that -please do not do this to me. Do not take away this chance of going to school with papa from me. I did not weep till I could see them, hoping against hope, that papa will see. He will come running and take my hand from hers and we will happily go to school. This did not happen.
As we hit the road, I could not restrain myself. I cried. A lot. I threw my arms and legs all around. I wanted to get free of her hand and run all the way back to papa. But, what physical power a 5 year old has against a mid thirties lady who is determined to take me to a school. She, who thinks, I am revolting against her small kingdom, when all I want is a little time of my papa, which I thought I had been promised and I could have got, only for this lady to come and snatch it away from me. I can still imagine her literally dragging me all the way to school, with my tiny legs brushing the rough of the road. I think, I can safely say, that I have never cried more than that day ever.
My parents knew what had happened. And they understood. And to this day, I think, they regret it at what transpired that day, and if they could change it, they definitely would. There could not have been better way to tell my parents that I have a heart which loves them. Off all the little incidents which may have happened at that time at home or in the school, I remember nothing. I do not remember the previous day or the day followed. But this incident is just etched. Never to be forgotten.
This tells me that we can derive pleasures from little things. A little attention. A genuine Thank You. A sincere Sorry. A Frank Talk. Opening your heart to someone. An innocent smile.
Still a kid. That I am. There is no one to restrain me anymore, to stop me anymore in getting what I want. But, still we can not get everything which we want. Its just that you will not see me dragging my feet on the road anymore.