Pure fun

The scene is Sankey tank. That is where many of us land up for our cardio workout in the mornings or the in evenings and everyone does their favourite routines and head back home.

But one thing that none amongst us can miss noticing is the games little children of helpers at the tank play to keep them laughing and amused. They don’t need any fancy imported toys that the children of the rich have and get bored with in matter of days to demand another set and yet another set. The latest addition in the category is I-potty.

These children grounded in their reality make do with anything that comes their way and draw immense fun. Oh, you should see their smiling and laughing faces. This morning, two of them had picked up a wheel barrow and foisted one little kid in it and were taking great delight in their ceremonial parade around the tank. They would look at us and laugh away to glory.

On another day, it might just be trying to catch a dry leaf flying away from them. On the tail wind days, the leaf wins and on the head wind days, the kids win but in both cases, the game they play amuses them. Hop skips and jump is their last resort when no other spontaneous pranks come to their minds. When it is meals time, they install themselves under canopied platform and you will see the older amongst them feeding their young ones and enjoying the company of one another, come rain or shine.

The only time I see them cry is when they fall but then too, their recovery time is just a minute or two because the others around them provide immediate support. This morning when I saw them play, I became a bit nostalgic and flashed back when I was their age.

Scene Multan, Pakistan, the year 1945 when the Second World War had just ended. There were only two fun games at our disposal on those days. Gili danda, the type you see still being played in the villages and building castles, not in the air, but on sand dunes.

We would get on the top of the dunes, shove our feet under the sand, try and construct various designs by pounding on the sand until we were sure that the foot could be extracted and then throw fistful of sand at one another and laugh. I was always a laggard because my build up would crash as I would try and release my foot from under the sand.

The war had just ended and the other pastime was to climb on the railings near the railway station and see gora soldiers leaving for Karachi port to leave for their homes and hearths. The soldiers would hand us some tins of dry egg powders as their parting gift from which our mothers would make delicious omelets for us to relish. So which model is greater fun for the children, the expensive toys or spontaneously thought out games that cost nothing. Let the jury decide but when my turn comes, my vote will go for the latter option. Childhood syndrome? May be.