I remember a girl when I was young, a girl with bright eyes who I used to play with. Our parents were friends and we’d meet often, on our birthdays and on our family night outs. She’d always be there with her bight blazing eyes and now even my failing memory refuses to remove what little memory I have left of her. I remember her eyes, most distinctively than anything else, those eyes that reflected the electricity of the city that reflected everything our childhood together was. Maybe I had eyes like those then, but all I see now is a shattered man looking back at me.


Magic, I guess, is what we lose while growing up. Everything seemed so new when I was young, so full of wonder. Building up a story for even the smallest of things and finding beauty in the little details. I guess that is what the electricity is all about, I guess that is what our eyes reflect, the innocence. There was a pond I used to visit with my friend when I was young, a small collection of water with uncountable numbers of tadpoles swimming around. Together we used to make up stories, for each tadpole, sometimes even venturing further and trying to grab some, but now I’m older, I must learn to put childish things to rest. It hurts me to see how with adulthood we learn to trade our little magic for facts and science.


How the brilliant shining dots in the night sky are just huge balls of fire and how tadpoles are just the infant form of frogs, nothing supernatural about them at all. I guess a lot of different events come into play once you’re an adult, like which college I’m going to go to, what am I going to be once I grow up, will I be financially sound if I go for an artistic course? You get weighed down by everything in the future and we get so caught up in life that we forget all about the little happiness that lurks within, here in the present. I say that I’m that kind of person who enjoys living in the present and things will eventually work out but I know deep down that, that’s not true. I have to think about what I want to study and what I want to be and when I end of anxiety kicks in, frustration grows erasing away what little of that childhood innocence I had.


I met my friend a few days back, all grown up and beautiful. We chatted how amazingly innocent our childhood was and how we missed it.


She was still as lively as I remembered her, still as cheerful as always but I noticed that her eyes weren’t as bright as they used to be. I noticed how the electricity in her eyes wasn’t there anymore, how now I could see the innocence dying in them as well. But I guess what keeps you going is realizing that there is happiness in people, that there is a sliver-lining to even the darkest of clouds. And I guess that why we hold on to memories, little fading pictures to remind us of how there was this electricity in between all of us as a child, how there was magic in everything and how our eyes could see it and reflect it. I guess innocence is one of the biggest things you losegrowing up, the electricity and the magic unraveling even in a city like Kathmandu.