Forty seven summers have passed since I was born in this world. Still cherishing my childhood days in my dreams. The colors of sky, the change of seasons reflects the movement of human life. When I was a kid my favorite pastime was to listen to music and play games alongside my studies. Those days were exciting and I always loved to be in my family. There was argument but still being loved by parents and other family members clinched a mark in my mind. My father always had been busy in his hospital as being a doctor he was focused on the well being of his patients, still his time was dedicated to his family and the bonding was rock solid. A man of few words he used to listen to all my words, wishes and fulfill at times. All my conversations were with my mother. She was caring about her family and her brothers, sisters, my grandfather, grandmother, and every person who used to visit our home. Our home was a place of socializing with each other much less than we see these days. But never knew what the future was going to be. Time played a joke with us in our life. We never could estimate the future as our thoughts are restricted to moments. 

An interesting observation I realized over the years is how the human mind changes. Once a favourite person becomes a foe in a moment but there is a saying by Sri Krishna in Bhagavad Gita that whatever deed you do will be returned in a similar way. We realize this very late in our life. Never knew that the toughest time of my life is yet to come. With such glorious childhood days one could always expect a better future. Alas I lost my father at a time when i did not expect. His suffering was hard to see and feel. Let the almighty take the good soul in his lap. The next few years were tougher again. The mother wasn’t too well and I deteriorated in my professional world. Lost job,met some fraud person who made me ran into more trouble. I and my family never lost faith in God and expect that all things in life will blossom again. 

“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” – William Shakespeare