Childhood

Swati Moheet Agrawal

- Swati Moheet Agrawal

It’s a warm spring day,

the walls of my home are aflame

with deep pink bougainvillea. 

I’m fresh as a daisy,

little Joe is sprightly as a sunflower,

flattening our noses against windowpanes,

we laugh hour after hour.

A flimsy rag doll makes me happy for days,

a nondescript toy car fills Joe with unbridled joy.

Day fades and night befalls,

we’re nestled in our cots,

like birds among cherries,

merrily conjuring up nonsensical stories.

We are happier now than we would ever be,

why must we grow up and lose it all?

Aunt Julie foolishly demands to know –

how Aladdin summons a genie,

how superman possibly flies,

it is odious of uncle Arthur to ask –

how the pumpkin turns into a carriage

how Cinderella is transformed with the wave of a wand

Adults -

their acid way of peeling the flesh

and blood off everything,

their disagreeable habit of saying the 

most melancholy things.

Wretched specimens -

pursuing truth which such selfish lack

of consideration for our feelings,

rubbing it in, rubbing it in.

Long-legged monsters,

let us children be,

let us amuse ourselves with balderdash, 

matters of consequence,

rob childhood of its essence.

***

Swati Moheet Agrawal is a freelance writer based in Mumbai, India. Her works have appeared in the Times of India, Café Dissensus, Twist & Twain magazine, Storizen, Indian Economy & Market Magazine and India’s premier mind-body-soul magazine, Life Positive. When she's not reading or writing, she likes to engage in creative pursuits like decoupage artwork. She also has a penchant for long walks and starry skies. She can be contacted at swatiwhowrites@gmail.com.

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Setu, February 2021