I have been mixed in the adventures of adulthood and responsibility, burdened with the boundaries of limits and led by the oblivious need to achieve, crowded by the energy of maturity, yet I find my heart lost in the mists of prepubescence. The times when I used to run through the open rice fields, I felt what freedom actually means. There were no barriers, the world was a playground. Every lane lead to a curiosity, full of a world desperate to be looked after.
The times when I was all ridden with mud over my newly bought garments, I felt the concept of regret. In every bath lay an imagination of the collision of wind with hope, a wish popped up in every corner of infantile mind. Scuttling in the father's lap with a craving that the trees will stop blowing, the noises will end as i fall asleep. Residing in mother's arms with a will to wake up on the soft bed magically in the morning. I guess we do own the guts to keep the child inside living, with all these memories to keep every bit of history in the golden crowns of heart. We can be a child every time we care to remember to turn these pages.
About the Author: Aazib Manzoor is a Student of B. A English at Aligarh Muslim University, Aligarh. He belongs to Pulwama district.