There resides a small child within me. The child who has not grown up over the years. The child who is still as innocent as any small child can be. The child who cries when scolded. The child who feels happy for smallest of things. The child who feels excited when he sees the balloons. The child who wants to lick the ice-cream from a cone and feel happy when it drips all over him. The child who feels sad when he sees some one in pain. The child who is immersed in his own little happy world. The child who wants to roll in the mud and the sand and feel happy about it. The child who wants to sing and dance in the rain. The child who wants to make balls from the freshly fallen snow and throw them at any one and every one. The child who wants to run all day in garden with net and catch butterflies. The child who looks at the night sky in awe and wonders how are the stars hanging from the sky. This child just wants to jump and catch the moon every night. For this child the pressures of modern life mean nothing. This child is happy in just being a child.
There resides a small child in me. But now that child is a prisoner of a three-piece suit. That child is prisoner of various fears. That child is a prisoner of expectations of the peers. That child is a prisoner of a luxury car. That child is prisoner of a fancy villa. That child is a prisoner of the fear of failure. That child is prisoner of the fear of being ridiculed. That child is prisoner of the fear of being unsuccessful.
That child still wants to jump out at slightest provocation. That child still wants to jump out at any slightest opportunity. That child still wants to make his presence felt. That child wants to tell the world that he exists but the suit blocks his way. That child will probably find his way out someday when there will be no suit blocking is way, but I wonder if that ever will be…
vikas sahar 