Childish Desire

When I was a child, I visited my uncle and aunt during the summer holidays. The three of us, my younger sister, cousin and I spent our days building forts with bedsheets, playing miniature cricket with a ping-pong ball, watching cartoons on the black-white TV or eating juicy mangoes. I lived in Mumbai, but pretty far from the sea. My uncle’s home, on the other hand, was close to the beach and all the attractions. We would wait for my uncle and aunt to return from work and once they were energized on a cuppa hot, cardamom tea and samosas, we would create a ruckus until one of them agreed to take us to the beach. No matter how tired they were or the day they had had, they would be willing to take us there. We would pick up our beach toys and walk to Dadar Chowpatty. My uncle would spread a hand towel on the sand and settle down with another cup of tea and some roasted corn. The three of us children would run to the water, jumping and splashing around, getting entangled in the sea moss and other debris which would be inevitably floating around. We would watch the sunset and exchange notes on the colors we saw that day. We would then walk back to where my uncle sat and begin building sandcastles, still in wet clothes, the gentle summer breeze drying them faster than any machine. Of course, most of the time we would just throw sand at each other and try to bury one of us in there. The wet, heavy sand with the smell of the sea entrenched in every particle felt like a security blanket. There was a Ferris wheel with lights on it nearby but we didn’t care about it or any of the other jazzy attractions. Sometimes bubbles would drift out of nowhere. We never did find the source.

When it was time to go, we would make a quick stop at the local street food vendor and gobble up some Pani Pooris, puffs filled with chickpeas and soaked in a sweet and spicy sauce. We would then walk back home, brimming with joy, the taste of Pani Poori lingering on our tongues, not a worry in the world.

I have never felt more unfettered, untethered than I felt during those endless summer days. I wish I could experience that freedom, that joy of being carefree again.

That’s my desire, to be as free as a child. And if paradise exists, this would be my paradise.