November 2020.
First lockdown started to ease out and I went out for a walk in the community park of my locality. I had shared the story of how I ran and my knees cursed my existence which pushed me to lose 22 kgs weight.
This post is not about that. This post is about the kids. MY KIDS! đ
On one such walk one day, I threw my cosco ball towards a 15 yo who caught and just like that, we started playing catch-catch. Nothing fancy, tho! We both met each other everyday to throw the same cosco ball at each other.
One day, he brought a football and for no obvious reason, we started playing football everyday. A few more guys joined in and suddenly, we were a group of 6-7. Weâd run together, challenge each other at push ups, jump around, cart wheels and a lot more, for no obvious reason!
These teenagers were basically a bunch of adolescents who, like all adolescent boys, had a lot of testosterone running through their body with no idea on what to do with it. đ
âŠand for no obvious reason, football was now a regular part of our journey which ended with each of us trying to outdo other in pull ups and chin ups. (for no obvious reason, again!)
Wait, did I just call THESE teenagers my kids?
NO!
One fine day, out of nowhere (and for no obvious reason), some kids (legit kids <9 years old) starting kicking our ball while we were still running in the field.
And JUST LIKE THAT, it became a norm for next one week.
Slowly, I realized (trying to be the mature one) that the body sizes of the two groups might lead to severe injuries. Also, by now, teenagers were required to be back to school while single-digit-aged-monsters were yet to get their calls.
This time, for an obvious reason, we had a bond. Except in a weird situation! I mean, have you ever played with kids (the ones not in your family?)
The problem was these kids now loved to play together (basic human competitive tendency, hah!) but the adolescents were gone (sad how our school/education culture robs young adolescents of their evening physical hobbies). Though I wanted to play with them, I looked like a misfit clown running after kids chasing football (for obvious reasonsđ)
What did we do? With some adolescents who still showed up and these kids, I kept the spirit of âcompetitiveâ kids alive with a new game for them: PITHOO!
Ah, what fun was throwing balls to dislodge those 8 pieces of marble only to see these kids running around like mice who just caught the sight of a cat.
With more schools opening, more kids stopped coming out in the evenings. For obvious reason, lesser kids showed at the park. We donât play anymore (like we used to!)
However, it gave me a new sense of joy. Before that run in 2020, my parents had been living in same locality for ~4 years. I lived with them on and off but never really had friends. Today, I step out daily for the evening walks and randomly run out in one of those kids whoâd shout âHimanshu BHAIYAAAAâ on top of their voice from a distance.
PURE BLISS! Often I am walking around with poker face but with this one loud call and the kid running towards me for bro fist will give me joy, too. I instantly find myself smiling and running to lift them or toss them in air or just make them run!
(Bro fist is my code with all of them. Everyone who played pithoo/football, would first come and bro fist me. Somehow, this one gesture gave a weird sense of belongingness to all of them. To them, I later realized, it was a recognition from eldest male/leader in the group. If you have kids or planning to have one, irrespective of gender, try and not be an absent parent in their life. You can always make more money and have a lot of work but your child wonât be this young, ever. I have observed in these kids, their affection towards me (among other factors) comprise of an effort to fill this empty space of a parent. I canât be that parent to them. No one else can be THAT parent to your kid)
So, yeah. These are the kids I called MY kids. Such is the bond that one day, one of them was crying while going to his swimming class. I was on my way to the gym, he left his sisterâs to run to me complaining about his disapproval for the class. Why, I asked? The instructor speaks rude to him! I held his hand and first dropped him to pool. On the way, I tried to make him laugh with my stories of failing at swimming classes and surprisingly, he was okay. (Although he dropped out of swimming classes soon because of that rude instructor.
(I remembered my swimming instructor who was a nightmare. But hey! In our time (I feel old typing in our time) that was the way forward but not for these kids, alas!)
Similarly, another girl started playing badminton with me. She is really good! Within 6 months of playing with me, she worked on her skill and now is a part of her schoolâs U12 team. She is barely 10 and defeated kids who were 12 year old to make way to the team! (2 years in adulthood makes less difference. But 2 years diff at 10-12 is huge when your body is still growing!)
Not just that, I made her start writing a book. Hopefully, weâd publish it soon.
I did not plan this post. I did not even edit it for grammar. I am typing it at 0151 hours on 17th December and if you were here, youâd have seen me smiling ear to ear typing this. I often joke to my close friends about how I am training to be a father with these kids. MY kids.
Whatâs the point of this story? If you have a little time, go to your nearest community park and try to indulge with either the kids or the elders. Itâll be fun, I promise!
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