Lost Childhood

 A cool evening breeze rustled through the balcony as Raghav scrolled through his phone, mindlessly swiping past endless reels of strangers dancing, mimicking dialogues, and showing off luxury vacations. He sighed. His eyes drifted towards the playground across the street—empty, except for a few kids hunched over their phones, lost in a digital world.

His mind wandered back to a different time, a different world. A world without notifications, where childhood meant more than virtual likes and heart emojis.

He could almost hear the crack of the bat against a rubber ball in the narrow lanes of his old neighborhood. Gully cricket wasn’t just a game; it was a battlefield where arguments over "out" and "not out" were settled by the eldest player, who acted as an unofficial umpire. "One-tip one-hand" was the rule when space was scarce, and broken windows were a rite of passage.

Then there was gully danda, a game of sheer skill, where a wooden stick and a smaller piece of wood could turn an ordinary afternoon into an unforgettable memory. The thrill of striking the danda just right, sending it flying while friends cheered, was a joy no video game could match.

Kanche—marbles—were not mere glass balls but treasures won through precision and strategy. He had a secret hiding spot for his most prized marbles, the ones he had won after countless nail-biting matches.

And summers… oh, the golden summers! The moment school ended, the much-awaited trip to Nani Ghar (maternal grandmother’s house) would begin. No fancy resorts, no Instagram-worthy beaches, just a simple train ride filled with anticipation, homemade food packed in steel tiffins, and endless storytelling by Nani. Days were spent climbing trees, stealing mangoes, and running barefoot on hot ground, unbothered by the sun’s wrath. Evenings brought ghost stories and card games under the dim glow of an emergency light during power cuts.

Raghav sighed, snapping back to the present. Today, childhood meant Reels, TikTok, and PUBG. Parks were deserted, lanes were silent. Kids didn’t fight over turns in gully cricket anymore; they fought over who got the latest gaming skin. There were no scars from falling off bicycles, only eye strain from staring at screens.

He glanced at his phone again, hesitating before putting it down. Maybe it was time to reconnect with the past, to introduce his nephew to the magic of marbles, to take him out for a real game, one with dirt-streaked clothes and laughter that echoed through the streets.

Perhaps, some things weren’t lost forever. They just needed someone to bring them back.

Comments

  1. Rajeev SharmaApril 13, 2025 at 6:54 AM

    Nostalgic and beautifully written. This captures the silent grief of a fading childhood so well. It’s a reminder that the magic isn’t gone, it’s waiting for someone to revive it.

    ReplyDelete

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