Posted:
"There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where,
colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again."
Thanks to Elizabeth Lawrence for giving us a quote that paints such a beautiful picture in the mind's eye, that we revel in its beauty and try to hold on to it, remembering the miracle called "childhood". But then I guess time, sometimes does call for us to pause and ponder about those who aren't lucky enough to be enchanted by the magic. And it's at times like these that I happen to be in a mellow mood and write something equally mellow. To start with here is a poem that I penned recently on my harbouring thoughts about the most ill-fated loss that a child may have to face... the loss of a childhood.
~~~
The childhood lost
The sunshine of childhood, engulfed by freezing frost;
In fleeting moments of time, a budding childhood lost.
**
Who could he blame, when they abandoned their own?
In the tender soils of childhood, the seeds of yearning sown.
The gardeners then left the seed, to the scorching sun and rain;
Indulged in their own worlds, they forgot it could pain.
**
The sunshine of childhood, engulfed by freezing frost;
In fleeting moments of time, a budding childhood lost.
**
The seed then grew to sapling, with mighty winds it fought;
Enduring the scorching heat, along the rainy onslaught.
A healing touch, a loving word, was all that it would ask;
But the gardeners by then donned, the skillful treacherous mask.
**
The sunshine of childhood, engulfed by freezing frost;
In fleeting moments of time, a budding childhood lost.
**
It started to droop, with the failing care;
Hating life, for being unfair.
The seasons came, and the seasons went;
Every passing season, its striking hue had spent.
**
The sunshine of childhood, engulfed by freezing frost;
In fleeting moments of time, a budding childhood lost.
**
The days turned to months, the months turned to years;
The face adorned a rigid smile, while getting stained with tears.
Here I word a childhood plight, which welling heart unfold;
A testimony to many more, sorry tales untold.
**
The sunshine of childhood, engulfed by freezing frost;
In fleeting moments of time, a budding childhood lost.
**
So as You sit and ponder, of the childhood one deserves;
There are childhoods at stake right now, let us help preserve.
Let not the sunshine of the childhood, be engulfed by freezing frost;
Let not in the fleeting moments, a budding childhood be lost.
~~~
~~~
They say No one can heal a wounded soul faster than an innocent child'... But what about the child who himself is a wounded soul? Whom does he turn to? My heart goes out to one such child whom I have come to cherish... Manik Malhotra.
Manik Malhotra... a canvas with so many shades... and we loved him for each shade, each hue.
One such hue which did not get the needed brush strokes, was that of his childhood. Yes we have had glimpses of Manik's childhood in the hazy background. But then I being the hopeless hoper (I know there isn't any such word), wanted an entire canvas dedicated to his childhood, for it's there that the story of "The Manik Malhotra" starts. I just wish we had enough time to unravel his past. That track had so much scope.
So here I pick up my brushes and start dabbing the canvas with the hues from the palate of my imagination. It maybe blotchy, for I'm no Picasso.
So here I pick up my brushes and start dabbing the canvas with the hues from the palate of my imagination. It maybe blotchy, for I'm no Picasso.
Presenting you my canvas...
A childhood is supposed to be the sunshine of life... and yet all that this very child remembers about his childhood is darkness. The darkness that has been very murky because although he had his sun... he had his parents ... he was in darkness because their abandonment eclipsed any light that could reach him ... and this eclipse never ceased... this little boy grew up in the expanse of the never ending nights.
A child finds his home in the form of his parents who wrap him up in warmest of hugs in the worst of weathers. But here I see a child who would never want to return home because he knows no one awaits him. All he would be wrapped up in there would be the cold and dark arms of uncertainty and pain. He would rather choose to swing on the broken swing the whole life... for a broken swing would rock him like his parents should and the broken swing was anytime better than his broken home.
Agreed that childhood is about bruised knees and skinned elbows...
but it's more about the soft blow over the wound that makes all pain bearable.
but it's more about the soft blow over the wound that makes all pain bearable.
Agreed that childhood is about the monster in the closet...
but it's more about the warm hugs and sways to shoo away the fear.
but it's more about the warm hugs and sways to shoo away the fear.
Agreed that childhood is about tantrums...
but it is more about the firm scolding followed by cajoling.
but it is more about the firm scolding followed by cajoling.
Agreed that childhood is about buzzing around like a bee...
but it's more about nestling at a mother's bosom to catch a cherubic sleep.
but it's more about nestling at a mother's bosom to catch a cherubic sleep.
Agreed that childhood is about wondering what's on the other side ...
but it's more about mounting oneself up on daddy's shoulders to get the perfect view.
but it's more about mounting oneself up on daddy's shoulders to get the perfect view.
Agreed that childhood never lasts ...
but everyone deserves one.
but everyone deserves one.
And this lost kid that we lovingly call Manik ... deserved every bit of it... he still deserves every bit of it.
Yes today we see a strong Manik but that is because he's grown up into this man now, and has mastered the art of masking his hurt behind that tough coconut face. But let's just for a few moments get into those tiny little shoes of the little Manik.
Walking a few steps in those tiny shoes we realize is the most daunting and painful task. All that is left is the nasty shoe bite there which cuts into the supple flesh to let us know that the journey from the little Manik to the present hasn't been easy. That the little Manik was broken, maybe threatened, maybe put down, scared, manipulated, humiliated and battered. The little baby was so bruised that we see the glimpses of the scar tissues sometimes. Now that is what makes Manik's childhood so intriguing. These very scar tissues have been a catalyst in making the present Manik.
His tendency to protect comes from the lack of protection that he needed as a child. His tendency to be there for the ones he loves comes from the fact that when he was a child he had none around him. His tendency to love and care comes from the fact that he was deprived the same as a child. And he grew all by himself being the light at the end of the tunnel for many when he himself was fighting his nightly demons. All these traits find their seeds in the scar tissue of his childhood.
From the time I have followed this show; one thing that tugged at my heart was that this monster, was a baby at one time. What kind of childhood did this kid face, to don the garbs of the monster? His childhood though hinted at very scarcely in the show had me believe that the very root to the tree of monstrosity that he exhibits lies deep seated in the soils of childhood. If unearthed, we would have had a deep compelling, heart wrenching and heart welling story there. That would have us praying that let a child be spared of such a childhood.
They say that words kind of free you of the burden that you feel when you have this thing that keeps gnawing at your heart. But at times when the words fail you or rather you fail at wording your thought well, it's at that time you try taking the easy way out. How do I know? Well that's what I'm doing right now. For I have this unresolved pain when it comes to the kind of childhood this kid had. It hurts. When ranting doesn't work, when my thoughts go haywire and my words fail me big time. I resort to HOPE.
So, keeping my hopes on the words that it's never late to have a happy childhood, I hope and keeping this very kid in my prayers, pray that he has his happy childhood now, with new memories.
I'm grateful that this show brought up this very under voiced issue of broken childhood. For spending time with the kids of broken homes and having a few friends who come with a familiar life, has always left me with an ache at heart. It hurts to see your loved ones and the people you have come to know, break down at times, unable to hold their forte and suffer. There is so much of void in their heart that it's a herculean task to fill that hole where the parents were to be. And all we are left with to do is, pray that with time, the void is filled with love in different forms and the scar tissues are only a reminder of a hazy dream.
I wish this for Manik and every other such child... to be engulfed with a love so pure in any form it takes.. a mother, a sister, a lover, a friend... any to name, to help them look beyond the scars, beyond the bygone childhood into a new one that's yet to unfold.
~~~
Now that I am done with the canvas, I know that the canvas will age with time, the hues will lose their vibrancy. But that's not what I take back with me now as I step back to view my canvas.
I take back these memories of having my hands lovingly stained with the colors of Manik. I may have started with Black of his bygone childhood as the base but being the hopeless hoper as mentioned before, I guess I could never leave the canvas like that. It had to be a vibrant. So added in, a dash of colourful HOPE.
Manik deserves a hand at childhood again with his shining star right beside him... And or me he shall get it for... Humesha.
Till we meet again...
Keep smiling and Get your hands stained too with all hues you love. It's worth it.
To my KY2 family here... Its a family hug time.
~ Sneha
~ Sneha
** Credit for the avis goes to the respective makers**
Writers Corner: Books, Stories & Poems
