To be free.
I had a happy childhood. Mostly. Of course, I had my unfair share of getting bullied, scolded, beaten, treated poorly, robbed of the sole attention of my parents when my younger brother came by, but I was blessed with a roof over my head, three square meals a day, parents who did not put me up for adoption and siblings who were mischievous but loving.
What I remember most is my love for school. In retrospect, we were a pretty middle class household. And TV made its appearance when I was in grade 5. We owned one radio that was the sole property of my eldest sister. It was out of bounds for the rest of us. Hence, all entertainment in my life came from one, single source – school!
A place that always gave me joy. I loved learning. I loved people. But I was the quiet one, shy and hiding in broad day light. My parents often heard from my teachers I was too quiet. But I was happy. Watching others, aspiring to be naughty, aspiring to be the trouble maker that I could never be, aspiring to be the like one of the popular kids that seemed cool. But despite who I was, I was always spirited. I always felt I belonged to my school. The numerous activities, the good teachers, the innovative assemblies and the diversity of students would make my day.
Commuting to and fro daily, watching every building, saying goodbyes to those that got off the school bus, observing the chemistry of students from different housing societies, every single thing made my day, my identity. Another important part was life after school.
Playing with kids my age at the open ground or play ground, no matter where we lived, was an important ritual. And no matter how much we fought, or how bad an experience made us feel, it was the same set of kids the following day and it was the same me. Looking back, that’s what I call acceptance. There was no cancel culture. There was no isolation. There was only accommodation. There may have been name calling. But we accepted and accommodated one another. Something, that seems to have vanished now that we are adults.
Was it the tiny ego that kept us all glued together? Was it the hunger to learn more about life, about people, about the world and big dreams in those tiny eyes that kept the flak out of our systems? Was it being in the present moment that helped us stay away from over thinking? Or was it the lack of money and internet?
Was it childhood when an ice cream in summer meant heaven, because guess what, air conditioners were a luxury item used only by the rich. And ice creams had no brands. Chocolates were synonymous with Cadburys and shoes meant Bata. New clothes and shoes were given to us twice a year – on birthdays and during Diwali. And no, I wouldn’t make the final selection. My mom would. Be it school uniform, school bag, birthday dress or underwear, Mom had the sole authority on everything in the lives of every single family member, starting with Dad. And she guarded her kingdom with pride.
Growing up was never boring. There was always something to look forward to, monkeying around on trees, cycling with friends, reading books, taking a cold shower on a summer evening before dinner, enjoying seasonal fruits, not off the shelf cakes for dessert and sleeping under the starry sky of our terrace flat, losing myself in the twinkling lights as I drifted into sleep each night, the music from the radio filling up my senses, as pipal trees in the vicinity would rock me with their gentle breeze.
So what does it mean to be a kid at heart? Perhaps, unlearning all the negatives we have picked up in the name of maturity. Perhaps, letting go mistakes of others and ourselves rather than holding on to a grudge. Perhaps, playing for the sake of having fun, rather than visiting the gym all alone, with air pods in the ears, frowning in one’s own company with a kettle ball in hand, in the name of keeping fit. Perhaps, having the urge to always be the learner, be the student, who has something to look forward to, something to learn… no matter how old he/she gets. Perhaps…
P.S. It feels refreshing to have reminisced a great part of life that gave me pure joy, hope and the aspiration to imbibe the qualities of different people I admired, growing up. The qualities I never possessed, but ones that never made me feel a lack. The ones that I aspired to develop, some day.
Sangeeta Deshpande 
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