We lived in a house on the edge of the town on a road which was shaded by regularly spaced, huge banyan trees. There was no other house on the road, beyond ours. Just the high school placed about 50 meters inside from the road and then open empty spaces, till the fields and the orchards began. We used to play in the open grounds and come back home to the smells of a great meal and listened to the radio for half an hour or so before going to bed. Those were the days of Apollos to the moon. And watching 'Purab Aur Paschim' at the only cinema hall in town. When families ate together and lived together. The days of peace, love and happiness. Those were my good old days.
But for our offspring, the present is the good old days. These are the days they will remember when they grow up. The days when they were young and free. The days when they were happy and didn’t know about any problems in their little world. The days when they come home and play with their toys or watch their favorite program on the TV. Or spend hours chatting with their friends on the phone or the internet. The days when small sorrows can bring about a flood of tears, but a moment later, a small joy can bring a wide smile to their faces. The days when they can fall asleep in their warm cosy beds and dream of another beautiful tomorrow. These are their good old days.I visited my childhood home earlier this year after a gap of about 20 years. All the banyan trees had been cut down and the road was lined with shanty dwellings. Even our childhood home was in a dilapidated state. There were no open spaces left. A slum had sprung up and taken over every available piece of land. But to me it made no difference, because my memories are more associated with the people I grew up with, than the places where I grew up.
One day my children will grow up and revisit the good old days of their childhood. I hope and pray they remember the people and not just the place they grew up around.