Musings on the Magic Childhood
I'm back in my hometown today--the place where I spent the first 19 years of my life. In one of my early poems written as a teenager, I called my hometown, "the abode of my best memories". But so much of that abode is gone now--the tall rubber trees, the old rambling houses of my neighbourhood and my dear childhood friends, all ravaged by the unforgiving forces of time.
I reflect on the passing of one my childhood friends. We grew up and played together, in the hills and bushes of the neighbourhood--all but a distant memory now. But the unbridled joy, laughter and friendship of childhood days formed so much of who I am today--both good and bad. It is where I return to find my essence and soul.
I feel grateful for the privilege of having a carefree childhood--undisturbed by the noise of modern technology such as television, cellphones and the internet. Those were more quiet days, when we had time for each other; when we really listened and observed the world around us.
"When mornings brimmed with bustling birds"--as a line in an early poem of mine goes. Now when I walk the streets of my old neighbourhood, I long for those long-gone birds which had made my childhood so magical.
And yes, magic was around every corner. I imagined elves and fairies carousing in their secret jungle sanctuaries and the night-stars above were fortresses of the gods and angels, watching over us, casting their enchanted spells over the affairs of men.
Ah, the cares of adulthood were so distant from our minds. Did we know that the strange magic of childhood would one day fade away, drowned by the petty concerns of sustenance and procreation?
Who decides who is to suffer the ignominy disease and untimely death? Did we have an inkling of the hand that fate had dealt us when we were naughty and exuberant kids terrorising the neighbour with our nocturnal pranks? We thought the world was our ally, concealing gifts and treasures in every nook and corner of the forest, ever-delighting us at every turn.
At some point that veil dropped before our eyes, and we saw the stark cruelty that stands in front of us. The loss of innocence could be too much for us to bear. We end up changed and chastened.
How different am I from the child I was, who listened to classical music at 10am on FM radio and imagined a forest full of dancing elves? Not very much, I hope. I am back here to rediscover that old magic, kindling a fire that was almost extinguished deep within my soul; and hopefully from within the depths of that despair, something of that child is still alive.
It has to live in honour and in memory of my departed childhood friends. I carry the spirit of their friendship within--the echoes of childish laughter and visions of innocent faces in the moonlight. And I have faith that this childhood magic shall see me through the years to come.
