When I was young, my social science teacher taught me the fundamental rights that every Indian 'citizen' has.
- Right to Equality
- Right to freedom
- Right against exploitation... and a few more.
Somehow, all this works, I get to exercise these rights more than ever once I had become an adult by law. I can marry if I'm over 18 years of age, to any person of my choice: Any religion, caste, creed and colour (Hell, even sex!). I can vote, I can become an entrepreneur, I can work, and I can legally sign papers and own property those old descendants left me. I can scream at police officers on the road if I am an uptight citizen against bribery, get drunk and in some extreme cases of proving my right, go high on weed and hash.
But if there is something people are against 'an adult' doing, especially when you are over 18 or appearing to be so, it is playing on swings.
I don't know where they come from, these bored aunties in jogging parks. I'm not talking about those young mothers with an infant in their hands, not those enthusiastic, brisk ones jogging and walking around the path nor the lovers moonstruck in each other's ecstatic love. No, not these people. These are people who mind-their-own-business lot. Uncles and aunties, some hot boys and cute kids who come to fulfill their own missions varying from reducing cholesterol to eating sand.
There's the other lot of people, some old uncles and mostly interfering aunties who realize they sweat too much in the daily two hours power-cut in the town and thus haunt the parks I seem to like for its' colour, vividness and fresh air. I guess they get bored fighting with their spouses and torturing kids that they turn up here to find innocent youngsters exercising their right in the most decent way possible.
I don't know if its just my luck but these middle-aged-old aunties who just probably got their VRS find it extremely annoying if they find any soul who seems to be older than ten years of age play on the swing. Of course, the LTTE issues of the nation, the ever-existing corruption and scraping of our rightful resources and taxes gets solved when they roughly make young girls get down from the paradise and back to the earth. They are 'rule-followers' who are ready to pay bribes at government offices but.. No, 'YOU can't sit on the swing!'
Why?
'Oh, the nut is loose. It'll break.' Yes, I weigh about two-hundred and fifty kilos and so the poor piece of wood and steel has no chance.
'It's only for kids.' Do I see one in sight? Ah, wait there is that fellow making sand castles and sandwiches out of sand. Does he care? No.
I don't understand why they enjoy doing this to me. They save a seat for their grandsons and granddaughters who are at the other end of the park. On top of it all, that fellow is just digging into the sand and pulling out plants. What more, they send kids to make me get up. Real mature. Those kids just end up digging more sand around the swing. Neat.
There is nothing in the Indian Law that states people as old as me can't sit on swings and play. But no, there's a sign, in invisible material stuck right over there. 'ONLY FOR CHILDREN UNDER 10-12 YEARS'. Yes, they have a world of worries you see. They do math in boxes, have sleep-time in school, their homework is done by their parents most of the times and their mistakes don't count. They can throw an egg on your face from atop a tree, but you just can't sit on that freaking swing. The only thing that can possibly be a reason is that ' the swings' health is failing' But no, it's there, rain or sunshine among disinterested children who wonder why their parents push them to and fro, thinking about sandcastles and cerlac. (Still.) Don't you get it, the kid doesn't care. He doesn't need it. But I do.
Their logic is impeccable. I weigh 'X' kilos. Oh no. I am too heavy. But three kids weighing 'a', 'b' and 'c' with a grand sum greater than my 'X' can play. Why? They are kids. Beautiful.
A swing isn't a mere swing for those of you who don't know. It helps soothe a sad mind and dissipates happiness in the air when the heart is like a blue balloon full of helium. It is paradise where your grades, future, past or sentences don't exist. It is just the kick of the leg in the air and words in the heart, of joy, consolation or anxiety to be toned down.. to be neutralized. But no, I'm an adult and I don't respect those yelling ladies words'. I'm a woman who needs to behave in the public. Of all, I'm going to be reported to the authorities. Let them do it and I'll give them a glimpse of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar.
What happened to the kid in the heart, anyway? These ladies. Sigh.
Grow up and let kids be. Or adults be.
The swing has a purpose. And it is definitely not to be thrashed around with mud or place stupid barbie dolls and to be made the centre of a circle with no purpose. Next time you scream at me for this, I'll be much worse than what I was today.
Hemu
Image from the internet
- Right to Equality
- Right to freedom
- Right against exploitation... and a few more.
Somehow, all this works, I get to exercise these rights more than ever once I had become an adult by law. I can marry if I'm over 18 years of age, to any person of my choice: Any religion, caste, creed and colour (Hell, even sex!). I can vote, I can become an entrepreneur, I can work, and I can legally sign papers and own property those old descendants left me. I can scream at police officers on the road if I am an uptight citizen against bribery, get drunk and in some extreme cases of proving my right, go high on weed and hash.
But if there is something people are against 'an adult' doing, especially when you are over 18 or appearing to be so, it is playing on swings.
I don't know where they come from, these bored aunties in jogging parks. I'm not talking about those young mothers with an infant in their hands, not those enthusiastic, brisk ones jogging and walking around the path nor the lovers moonstruck in each other's ecstatic love. No, not these people. These are people who mind-their-own-business lot. Uncles and aunties, some hot boys and cute kids who come to fulfill their own missions varying from reducing cholesterol to eating sand.
There's the other lot of people, some old uncles and mostly interfering aunties who realize they sweat too much in the daily two hours power-cut in the town and thus haunt the parks I seem to like for its' colour, vividness and fresh air. I guess they get bored fighting with their spouses and torturing kids that they turn up here to find innocent youngsters exercising their right in the most decent way possible.
I don't know if its just my luck but these middle-aged-old aunties who just probably got their VRS find it extremely annoying if they find any soul who seems to be older than ten years of age play on the swing. Of course, the LTTE issues of the nation, the ever-existing corruption and scraping of our rightful resources and taxes gets solved when they roughly make young girls get down from the paradise and back to the earth. They are 'rule-followers' who are ready to pay bribes at government offices but.. No, 'YOU can't sit on the swing!'
Why?
'Oh, the nut is loose. It'll break.' Yes, I weigh about two-hundred and fifty kilos and so the poor piece of wood and steel has no chance.
'It's only for kids.' Do I see one in sight? Ah, wait there is that fellow making sand castles and sandwiches out of sand. Does he care? No.
I don't understand why they enjoy doing this to me. They save a seat for their grandsons and granddaughters who are at the other end of the park. On top of it all, that fellow is just digging into the sand and pulling out plants. What more, they send kids to make me get up. Real mature. Those kids just end up digging more sand around the swing. Neat.
There is nothing in the Indian Law that states people as old as me can't sit on swings and play. But no, there's a sign, in invisible material stuck right over there. 'ONLY FOR CHILDREN UNDER 10-12 YEARS'. Yes, they have a world of worries you see. They do math in boxes, have sleep-time in school, their homework is done by their parents most of the times and their mistakes don't count. They can throw an egg on your face from atop a tree, but you just can't sit on that freaking swing. The only thing that can possibly be a reason is that ' the swings' health is failing' But no, it's there, rain or sunshine among disinterested children who wonder why their parents push them to and fro, thinking about sandcastles and cerlac. (Still.) Don't you get it, the kid doesn't care. He doesn't need it. But I do.
Their logic is impeccable. I weigh 'X' kilos. Oh no. I am too heavy. But three kids weighing 'a', 'b' and 'c' with a grand sum greater than my 'X' can play. Why? They are kids. Beautiful.
A swing isn't a mere swing for those of you who don't know. It helps soothe a sad mind and dissipates happiness in the air when the heart is like a blue balloon full of helium. It is paradise where your grades, future, past or sentences don't exist. It is just the kick of the leg in the air and words in the heart, of joy, consolation or anxiety to be toned down.. to be neutralized. But no, I'm an adult and I don't respect those yelling ladies words'. I'm a woman who needs to behave in the public. Of all, I'm going to be reported to the authorities. Let them do it and I'll give them a glimpse of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar.
What happened to the kid in the heart, anyway? These ladies. Sigh.
Grow up and let kids be. Or adults be.
The swing has a purpose. And it is definitely not to be thrashed around with mud or place stupid barbie dolls and to be made the centre of a circle with no purpose. Next time you scream at me for this, I'll be much worse than what I was today.
Hemu
Image from the internet
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