Our generation

 It was the afternoon of a humid-rainy may day. We just had our meal and we were standing in the balcony humming old Kishore ji songs. We could hear the sparrows chirping and warbling. The clouds were concealing the beauty of the sky, but somehow it looked more alluring and exquisite with those flawed cloud. We could hear bambinos rushing down the park to play. It nudged up our old lane of reminiscence.

It was 4pm mid afternoon during rainy season, there were no portable electronic appliances or smartphones then, so we had the content,  beatific and care-free lives. The kulfi uncle, gave us some kulfis which seem to have better savour than Havmor, Baskin Robbins, and Haagen-Dazs .Even the ding-a- ling of the barrow, sounded harmonious and tranquil.

We were relishing each second of our lives.

Just after, It started raining, unlike today the drizzle made the mid-afternoon more delightful. It didn't put an end to play our games, ghost in the graveyard, Hide and seek and many more. 

We tumbled down gazillion times in brownish -muddy water but Euphoria didn't let us think, even once  about hygiene. 

The days of yore are missed, the blatant rowdy voices of kids aren't heard anymore. The fights amongst the denner and the players aren't seen anymore. 

We are the last cohort, who had such a heavenly childhood even the white beautiful moon blushed seeing our days of lives.