24/05/2026
The child in me, arose each time I wanted to be an adult.
The child in me arose every day.
I crafted fabric toys.
I patched flowers and little tiny beings on cloth.
The child crawled out to play.
I made masks, and their guises.
The child in me adorned to sway.
I wish to grow 'up' and not 'down', yet higher waves I have not found.
Adults first mock and then shun me, as the child remains invisible to them.
I chuckle in my cheek, as the naughty geek, as the distance between us is ever on the increase.
I wish they would become small like me... And
let out a child form each one of us to see...
but that is something which never happens to be.
The child in me grows out to be small, as the days and the years, roll on.
The child has grown to speak.
The child has grown to speak it's first words.
But as it crawls out, it purges thoughts of the adult world - that was once- me.
Wobbly on it's hands and toes,the child warbles nonsense as it goes.
Children, and those who are like the children, laugh along with me.
But the adults raise their voice and shout at me.
And so,as the years roll on, the distance between us grows and grows.
-the गोंधळी.
