The day that continues to haunt me and reminding me of that moment of bliss and tranquillity which bypassed and can never return and if it does, then only in my dreams, may be. Five summers and five almost long melancholy winters have passed then, still, I hear those waters rolling from their mountain-springs with a soft inland murmur.
The day reminds me of that moment of solitude when I was in that green valley surrounded by dark clad mountains, under dark sky when it was likely to rain, with my friends, with our hands joined, in a happy mood, we all running boundless in that secluded green valley.
We were roaming freely as birds and it seemed that we were the divine creatures sent by God to spread the message of peace, love and harmony, surely, we were. The very pious children we were at that time about whom the blessed Prophet (PBUH) referred to as the blossoms of Paradise and the poet philosopher and my favourite poet and scholar Dr. Iqbal referred to as "SHAHEEN BACHCHE" (flying kids) and for them he supplicated to Almighty Allah to bestow them with vision so that they can attain the Ultimate Ego (KHUDI) and then be eligible to change the course of their destinies.
Gone are the days now, when we were enjoying heavenly bliss but as we grow, all the heavenly traces go as William Wordsworth had said, “When the child achieves complete manhood, the heavenly light completely leaves him and instead he is surrounded by the light of daily routine life,". We often enjoyed making paper boats and were following it in the endless serpent like narrow lanes of water. We really miss our childhood when each one of us was a king of his own kingdom. I am often reminded of my childhood whenever I listen that melodious ghazal so charismatically sung by Jagjit Singh,
Ye daulat bhi lelo ye shohrat bhi lelo
Bale cheen lo mujhse meri jawaani
Magar mujhko loataado bachpan ka saawan
Wo kaaghaz ki kashti wo bearish ka paani
(Take away all the money and fame from me,
Take away my youth.
But return to me the showers of my childhood
And that paper boat of mine)
Whenever I miss my childhood my heart pains. We desire to go back to our golden days when days were happy, nights were calm and in summers we roamed freely, in winters we stuck to listening tales from the magical tongues of our grandmothers.
Shall time rewind so that we shall again enjoy our golden old days? No, those days are gone! but we still desire to regain that glorious BACHPAN.
Haan dikhaade aiy tassawur phir wo subh-o-shaam tu
Doad peeche ki taraf aiy gardish-e-aiyyaam tu
(Oh! My Imagination, show me again those (wonderful) mornings and evenings; Ye wheel of time roll back)
