Some glitters stick on. Like the fresh air of the first days of autumn, the light flickering breeze that gives you the feeling of approaching holidays. Like childhood memories that fade away with age, but what sticks on is the way you felt about them.
The bottled pickles drying in the sun, the smell wayfaring through closed doors and alleys. Alluring, restricting and childish friskiness– all in abundance. Sneaking up to the roof in the middle of the day, little feet craftily climbing up the scorching flight of stairs on a hot summer noon. The memories and the miniscule details fade away… but what remains with you is the taste of mischief, the first bite of that delicious pickled mango. Sheer Bliss.
Some glitters stick on. Like the pulpy paper boats- that sink within seconds in the muddy monsoon waters. The few seconds of glory, smiling faces, excellent dexterity and the simplicity of the spectacle we call childhood. The boats may not be afloat, but what remains is the art. Stuck in a cubicle all day, when we fold up a piece of paper to create that one masterpiece again, what you recall is a small fragmented piece of yourself on one of those damp drizzling afternoons. Letting go of your illusion of control and taking pride in a few moments smooth sailing before the first boat in a series of seven submerge into the opaque waters.
Some things stick on. Some things never change. They are a part of you, and always will be. Complexities of growing up may change parts of you in ways that you may never understand, but there will always be those tiny specs of glitter that stick on to you, hold on to you for the sake of your own survival; to make you what you are and to never let you forget what the real moments of gratifications hold. The have supernatural powers to drag you back to reality and isolate between what’s simulated and what’s naturally beautiful. Maturity is mostly over-rated. It brings a lot of undeserving confidence, which smears your senses with superficial judgments.
Let me look at what’s exquisite. In peace. Let me not judge with a series of when and how’s. Let me go back to my glitter days, and let me look at the world all over again with uncolored eyes; let me take it all in once more again. Let me take back the phases of forced interpretations, and explore again… unbiased and tolerant. Let me discover my glitter days once more, I’ll make the most of it this time. I promise.