Of candy floss and trumpet toys.

In every real man, a child is hidden that wants to play. -Friedrich Nietzsche

During these two months at the Media Institute, I was relentlessly reminded of the growing responsibilities as well as the simple, carefree childhood days that are left behind forever.

I wouldn't shrink away from accepting the fact that I have a child hidden inside me. There are moments when my inner child would feel so trapped that it would try peeping out into the world that my mature self now inhabits. This time I shall talk about a certain day when my cluttering reality of newspapers, empty coffee cups and cigarette stubs was transported into the world of candy floss and trumpet toys.

The other day my friends and I decided to go to C.R Park to see the Durga Pujo Pandals. I have always loved the hustle- bustle that surrounds the city during the festive season. As soon as we started walking to the nearest Pandal, the child in me got excited. Just as a child feels incapable to grasp the entirety of the vastness around him, I was then amazed by the multitudinous crowd, the vast Pandals and the vibrant glimmering lights. I spotted a man who was selling balloons and toys; I stood in front of that vendor, marveling at the collection of tiny little goodies that he was carrying with him.

That day the child in me was sad, with eyes wide open and filled with ocean of despair it greedily looked at those colorful bundles of goodies. I finally decided to treat the little child, the child that would never step out of the cage that my twenty two year old being was. With apprehensiveness lurking deep inside and anxiety brimming my mind, I walked towards the toy vendor and asked how much the toy would cost me, “Twenty rupees”, he replied. I elbowed deep into my hand bag, took out my wallet and handed him a crisp twenty rupee note while he handed me my toy. I stood there for a while clutching the little toy in my hand, completely oblivious of my friends who were calling me from behind. I was reminded of those childhood days when I would ask my father to lift me up in his arms and carry me around, while I would munch on candies and blow wild my trumpet toy to ecstasy.  

Such were those days when candy floss, balloons and the cacophonic trumpet toys were among my all time favorites and the priceless, innocent rapture that was experienced was free of cost. Today, I had to sheepishly shell out twenty bucks to relive those moments again, what an irony! We all have a child hidden behind the garb of a mature human; we suppress it, often deny its existence completely.

Listen to the voice

deep inside

It’s the inner child

Let it run wild

Let it loose, let it stray

Let the fit of madness stay

To make some sense

of the world around

the world that goes

round and round! 

My fellow Old Rider, My dear Old Friend.

I know,
Time waits for none,
Its like a 'galumphing' horse,
Speeding its way,
Through the meadows, plains and thorny woods,
Through the roughest and smoothest of paths,

We, been its riders,
Are always in a great haste,
To master this wild, black, dark beauty,
That we leave behind so many things,
Only to come across things and people brand new,
But its the happiest moment in one's life,
When while on our lightning ride,
Amidst and amongst our new fellow riders,
We spot some old friend at a distance,
Sweet old memories flashing their way,
Back into the narrow galleries,
Of a mind so ignorant and forgetful,

Its like our faded past,
Getting one with our passionate present,
Its like, we, been reminded of what we were,
And what we have now turned out to be,
It makes us retrospect and introspect,
For the humans that we were,
Or the beings that we are now.


Wherever I go,
My sight that sees the ever shifting horizon,
Gets bafflled and boggled
To behold strangers all around me,
Oh' what are those faces?
Twitched with twirling fake smiles,
Their gestures of assurance,
Masking their wicked thoughts of abhorrence.

I know,
Time will go on,
My horse shall still 'galumph',
Won't stop or wait for me,
But,
How can I still keep pace with it,
Being unable to master it anymore?
How can I guide its way to my destination,
When I see strange, unfamiliar land all around me?
Since past is all gone,
Faded and buried deep in memories,
Cannot be revived, cannot be stirr'd,
How can I still go on,
Not knowing what path to choose?
Or how can I even,
Trace my way back home?

I knew,
I was getting late,
All in flux and bewildered,
With my horse being stubborn to 'galumph' away,
Not willing to stop and wait for me,
Knowing not what to do, or where to go next,
My sight, still beholding the ever shifting horizon,
Saw something or someone coming my way.

And in your form, there came relief to me,
To see a figure so familiar,
Rising from the mist of my distantly sweet past,
'Twas happiness that came my way,
When while on my lightning ride of life,
Amongst my new fellow riders,
Amidst a land so unfamiliar and strange,
I finally spotted you,
My Fellow Old Rider, my dear old friend,
Coming towards me from a distance.

And there were finally,
Sweet old memories flashing their way,
Back into the narrow galleries of my murky mind,
That had become so ignorant and forgetful,
Of my distantly sweet past,
That had you and me, together,
Encompassed in life's absolute harmony.


I knew,
I was getting late and,
That time waits for no one,
But to me, then, it didn't matter much,
As I got you back with me,
Reviving the dead, lost past for me,
Riding side by side, right next to me,
Through the present ravages of time,
Finding our way to our destination,
Exploring the tensed territories,
Of our distantly approaching future.


This poem is dedicated to all humans who were and are still a part of my life,
who were there but are not anymore, and specially to those whom I have had lost but have gained again...
thank you for being there, you all make me what I am today.

The word 'galumphing' has been coined by Lewis Carroll,
used in his children's fiction book, 'Through the Looking Glass',
the word is a combination of the words 'Gallop' and 'triumphing'
'A triumphant galloping of a horse'