<p>A snapshot fell out of the album, capturing us playing cricket. I smiled, fondly, as I recalled a time that seemed aeons ago. </p>.<p>“Bowled,” shouted one of my friends on a summer day when we were in a state of leisure. All we needed were a rudimentary bat, and any ball that looked like a cricket ball. Those were the days when our housing colony resounded with the cries of “howzzat,” morning, noon, and evening, even as we postured ourselves, in the manner of our cricket idols. Without a doubt, the Indian cricket team held a special place in our hearts.</p>.<p>And, when football tournaments were being “live cast,” we would take to the streets with gusto. It mattered little that we were a bunch of youngsters, with just a smattering of knowledge of football. What we lacked in “technical expertise,” we made up for with our ‘guts and glory’ attitude!</p>.<p>Back then, I was often bestowed with the honour of being the umpire, because I was seen as impartial. I still reminisce about what my friends used to say, “Anu, you are always fair to both sides, come what may.”</p>.<p>Today, years later, when I recall those moments, I still feel that warm glow that compliments leave behind, and somehow they make me feel younger than I am.</p>.<p>We lived a life in the slow lane, if it can be called that. We played games with no regard for time or place. They were simple to make and inexpensive: a flat pebble sufficed for kunte bille (hopscotch), a line drawn across the road served as the arena for kabaddi, Kho Kho, pittu, gilli danda, goti, you get the idea.</p>.<p>In retrospect, that life seems like a charmed one. As I see my adorable young nephew busy on his iPad, I feel a trifle wistful. As kids, we needed so little to be happy; When “adventures” meant just taking to the “woods” near our homes, with some potatoes and a matchbox in hand, in a typical Secret Seven (of Enid Blyton) manner. We would roast the potatoes, and eat them as if in a jungle, though there weren’t any around, just a few ragtag trees strung together! </p>.<p>But, yes, if we thought the innocence of childhood was lost in this hi-tech age, then these words of Tom Stoppard educate us otherwise, “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” And the age of innocence remains. I played hide-and-seek with my 2-year old nephew, the other day. He put away his gadget as I told him, “No more iPad... let’s play!” He then toddled off, shouting to his grandpa, “Find me … I am here” and in the same breath, “Bua is here,” revealing both our positions in all his innocence! That moment was pure joy. As Winnie the Pooh says: “We never knew we were making memories; we were just having fun.”</p>
<p>A snapshot fell out of the album, capturing us playing cricket. I smiled, fondly, as I recalled a time that seemed aeons ago. </p>.<p>“Bowled,” shouted one of my friends on a summer day when we were in a state of leisure. All we needed were a rudimentary bat, and any ball that looked like a cricket ball. Those were the days when our housing colony resounded with the cries of “howzzat,” morning, noon, and evening, even as we postured ourselves, in the manner of our cricket idols. Without a doubt, the Indian cricket team held a special place in our hearts.</p>.<p>And, when football tournaments were being “live cast,” we would take to the streets with gusto. It mattered little that we were a bunch of youngsters, with just a smattering of knowledge of football. What we lacked in “technical expertise,” we made up for with our ‘guts and glory’ attitude!</p>.<p>Back then, I was often bestowed with the honour of being the umpire, because I was seen as impartial. I still reminisce about what my friends used to say, “Anu, you are always fair to both sides, come what may.”</p>.<p>Today, years later, when I recall those moments, I still feel that warm glow that compliments leave behind, and somehow they make me feel younger than I am.</p>.<p>We lived a life in the slow lane, if it can be called that. We played games with no regard for time or place. They were simple to make and inexpensive: a flat pebble sufficed for kunte bille (hopscotch), a line drawn across the road served as the arena for kabaddi, Kho Kho, pittu, gilli danda, goti, you get the idea.</p>.<p>In retrospect, that life seems like a charmed one. As I see my adorable young nephew busy on his iPad, I feel a trifle wistful. As kids, we needed so little to be happy; When “adventures” meant just taking to the “woods” near our homes, with some potatoes and a matchbox in hand, in a typical Secret Seven (of Enid Blyton) manner. We would roast the potatoes, and eat them as if in a jungle, though there weren’t any around, just a few ragtag trees strung together! </p>.<p>But, yes, if we thought the innocence of childhood was lost in this hi-tech age, then these words of Tom Stoppard educate us otherwise, “If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.” And the age of innocence remains. I played hide-and-seek with my 2-year old nephew, the other day. He put away his gadget as I told him, “No more iPad... let’s play!” He then toddled off, shouting to his grandpa, “Find me … I am here” and in the same breath, “Bua is here,” revealing both our positions in all his innocence! That moment was pure joy. As Winnie the Pooh says: “We never knew we were making memories; we were just having fun.”</p>