Give Me My Magic Back

When I was a kid, I used to believe that moon liked me and there was an old woman living on the moon sewing fancy looking dress. Often at cool nights in my terrace, I used to lean on the railing to tell my moony friend about what happened today and than I usually end up seeing that old lady smiling down at me if I look a teeny tiny bit too hard. I thought I was special because where ever I go, moon used to travel with me. Than they told me that moon is just a ball of cold surface with no one living there and since its big, so from ever angle you perceive, you’ll see the moon. From that moment onwards, moon quit being my friend and that old lady just simply disappeared. 

I thought Mustanser Hussain Tarr, chacha who used to show cartoons in the morning, lived in our tv box. Than they told me that its just a transmission of signals which when thrown on tv tube, form images. They made my one fascinating thing, one hell of boring long lectures. 

Like every kid, I had the magic of short memory that would make me forget all those fights with friends because moments afterwards we all would be playing again. Now grudges are meant to be kept and even if you try to be all fine again, you simply cannot forget. Friends were friends because of no reason at all. Now, things are entirely different. Whenever in those days I feel like crying, all I just had to do was to climb onto my mother or father’s lap and be soothed. Now I have to smile a big fake ‘everything is fine’ smile because it appears weak or awkward to cry in front of anyone. They  told that it shows bravery if you keep smiling instead of crying, so what if it makes you feel like hypocrite, its polite not to show your moods to everyone.