Golden age

Lets peep into first phase of life… going a little retro…

The day and moment we embarked on this journey, with not an inkling of what we meant to this world. The feel that mom had when she first felt us, just inimitable. The vibes that dad felt when embraced us, again superlative. The warmth with which everybody near and dear delightfully welcomed us to be a part of their life. The world cried out glory to us. We did have contemporaries sharing the same birthday. We were all the celebrities of that day.

It’s just too elating to envisage ourselves. A miniature, with Lilliputian fingers, toes, eyes.. I mean those petite features… Those first cries of life which we cried. Those cries that seemed to be music to our parents. And the first time we actually opened our eyes to have the first look of this world.

The emotional see-saw that mom would have been through when she first hugged us. The cozy feel we had in her lap is again simply unmatchable. The irksome cries we cried when people just would not stop cuddling us. As we always felt everybody except ‘MOM’ very unfamiliar and unknown.  The bizarre we would have felt when people could not understand our language… we cried with suffocation and people would just not give us enough space to breath. And then mom used to never tire out speaking to us… literally we would never stop admiring her. We always wanted her to stay in sight. We were the kid, but mom used to speak and sound like a smaller kid…

We had all the time on earth to dream. In our deep sleep as we relished few scenes, some of the visuals would literally turn us off… and all this used to explicitly show up on our face… We would wet our shorts in the night and wake up due to the inconvenience our wet pants caused us. And would feel helpless and nobody around is awake to help us out of those cold clothes.

Mom and Dad used to securely pack us up in between them on the bed, as though we would run away if they were to give us some space….. So all the night sleep would be ruined due to the discomfort. So the deprived sleep used to get us cranky during the day… but who is to be blamed J

We never missed a single opportunity of bewildering mom with our unexpected and unusual actions. And we would try hard to win mom’s admiration and attention. She made us feel like a true celeb… . And when dad held us in his proud crest… we felt like the superstar…

No toy was so amazing as it was while playing with her hair when she were to hold us in her arms. No sound was as pleasant to the ear when compared to the sound of her bangles and anklets. When she used to get to work, we would get hanky-panky just to digress her from her activity and get back to us…

We struggled so hard to just balance our head on our tiny shoulders.. J We always wanted to walk before crawling.. Those first steps that mom made us put firmly holding us… we were no better than our grandparents with their walking stalk…

And then we started getting those sweet milk teeth, and then we could not resist the itch the gums use to cause… had to hold on to those rubber toys to comfort us… We wanted to speak so proficiently like others, but would end up with just the first letters of all the words… The tiny tongue would feel it very inconvenient to twist itself… and so the words that we spoke would end up extremely comic… and people laughed out… but we would never give up…

As we started to toddle, we wanted to climb the stairs… and more than often would entrapped in unfavorable locations and would not know how to get out of there… Those tiny hands would want to hold everything it finds… The faltering steps would cause us stumbling most of the times… as we had to hold things in those tiny hands as we walked… Everything seemed so tasty.. so every object in our reach had to first get into the mouth… as though we were connoisseurs…

As we managed to walk stably we wanted to play with our elder siblings and they would never enjoy playing with us as mom used to end up firing at them for all our mischief’s. When mom first left us at the play home… we would not stop crying… no matter how much the aunties there used to pacify us… and slowly we somehow found the aunty nice and use to  despise going back home… At home we would find our elder siblings studying… and we wanted to write like them… We would manage to scribble something which the rest found illegible and nonsense but we knew what we wrote….

So that was a journey through the first few years of our life …