Sitting on the roof with warm winter sun on my back, I watch neighbourhood children playing in dust. How engrossed they are! Little things, small things give them joy. Time doesn't shackle them; space doesn't cramp. Nobody pauses from play to ask what time it is. None runs back to do some chore or keep an appointment on his own. They have nothing to bother them, I imagine. They only measure time in terms of meals or rest: time for breakfast, for lunch, time for dinner and time to sleep.
It is only a small field in which they play yet they've found room enough for cricket. Instantly they turn into their heroes...
"I'm Bret Lee, You be Dhoni" they clamour in ecstasy.
With a piece of wood for a bat and ball of rag they eke out maximum happiness.
Tussles are short lived, resolutions of conflict very swift...In the world of children there's only possibilities, happiness and endless peace, I'm induced to think.
A passerby stops and looks at them wistfully, like me,perhaps remnants of child awakened inside of him. He stands no more than two minutes; he must move on if his own children are to be so carefree, I imagine.
But even in the world of children, I soon realise fears lurk and have to be overcome... Immersed in the children's happiness, I'd forgotten the truth.
A batter has hit the ball hard. It has plunged into a drain , quite deep for them. It is a shadowy place and the lost ball is hard to find. Only one brave boy goes in search. Others hold back - with fear of spirits,and bugs among other things, perhaps.
"Come on you cowards!" the brave boy shouts. he coarsely jabs one child with his grimy fingers. I think fear of this boy is greater than their collective fears of things in the drain. slowly the fearless boy encourages and commands all his mates. All begin to poke and scratch in search of the lost ball.Is this how seeds of leadership and submissiveness planted in child?
I realise there is so much to learn from children at play. An observant man can see so much of life in microcosm.

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