broken windows


​I don't know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, we grew up too fast.

We were the '90s kids. Lost in our worlds. Not phones and Tinder and Instagram. But people, and pranks, and cycle rides, and cricket, and football, and badminton, and just playing around and racing.
We sat on benches, and balconies, and rooftops, without cellphones in hands to capture the beauty of the world. We never really could, could we?

We couldn't replace sleeping on rooftops, under the starry sky, wondering if now is all there is. We couldn't replace laughing so hard we felt tired, and our stories weren't about dates, no.
We were questioning the simple. Looking at airplanes cut through the sky and wondering about their destinations. We'd wonder about our destination, so some other kid could one night look up and see us.

Whatever happened to those air bubbles? And the tazzos? Collectible cards, and those beyblades, and saving money for them. Those small Frooties, and Cheetos, and Polos. It was a quest, you know? Our pockets were small, but they were full. Full of hopes and dreams.

Only the sky was the limit.

But we were better than that. We wanted to go beyond. We all had that astronaut phase, that pilot phase, when we wanted to go beyond the sky, through the clouds. Into infinity.
Taxis were joy rides. Buses were a new experience altogether. Walking wasn't boring, or a distraction. Observing people wasn't creepy. Our curiosity knew no bounds, and we thought we could fix up the world. We had a solution to every problem. And if we didn't, the problem didn't matter.

We all had our share of adventures. Hiding. Running. Discovering. Our problems were momentary, not so crippling as now, you know?

We took those books from the library that had the most illustrations. And there was always this one kid who took the fatter ones just to show off. And one who didn't show off. And he'd go home and read them quietly. And he'd draw illustrations because he just finished Harry Potter, or because he thought this is what the characters must look like.

We were ready to fight for our beliefs. If we wanted it hard enough, it was ours. Not even the universe could stop us.

And then, we started complaining. Fighting. Running away. Staying up longer. Keeping quiet. Smiling less. We learnt tears the hard way. The hardest there is. We lost people, friends, family. We were made fun of. Abandoned. Left to fend for ourselves. The adventures didn't mean anything anymore. We were deceived, and lied to, and our hopes were manipulated. We hated the world a bit, you know?

I don't think we ever lose ourselves. No matter how good we get at pretending to be adults, somewhere deep down lies that childlike wonder. That quiet gaze. That explosive curiosity. That longing for comfort. We just learn to bury it deeper.

But once in a while, if you look closely, you'll see a grown man break into a smile randomly. You'll notice a woman hop a bit on the pavement, and balance herself on her feet. You'll find a bench occupied by an adult who just wants to see life unfurl all around him.

We're still looking for broken windows to laugh about. It's not our fault now.

The child is still alive. Not fighting hard anymore. Not disappointed. Just, still waiting to admire this existence. And then laugh about it.

broken windows
Written by Yash Raj Talan

[note to self: you shall find your childhood sleeping in your blanket, covered in the warmth of your heart, only if you remember to keep yourself warm. tamasha shall find you your bachpan, your childhood]


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