I vividly remember my Grand mother telling me her childhood tales. Her fascinating tales always made me speculate curiously about her being a kid. They always made her eyes moist though repeating it every night. Her childhood was all about fields, cattle, ponds, and rural adventures in Pakistan of Undivided India. I used to relate every cow with one of her cows who was her favorite of all her cattle’s. “She was the most beautiful cow in whole village. Her grace, conduct, and affection made her so distinct from everybody. She was my favorite and I was hers.” She used to tell this with a spark and an excitement of a kid in her senile eyes. I didn’t have any cow except those wandering on roads. I wanted to go near them but was so scared and told my Grandmother that they scare me when I go near. She said, “They are not yours. That’s why.” Now, I wanted to have one and asked my parents to get one for me. They ignored it and told me that there is an ailing cow near by and I can visit her. My parents too had similar stories to share about their childhood and teenage. Their life with fields and animals made my childhood full of these adventures. I started visiting this cow with a cousin. I touched a cow for first time in my life. She started recognizing us after a week and I patting her with ease. She passed away after a month leaving us cow less all over again. Now, I could easily understand the moisture in my Grandmother eyes when she used to remember her dear cow.
I am an owner of many cows today. White gives white milk, pink one gives strawberry milk, and brown one chocolate milk. And, I can own as many as I want and they will never die. So, no moisture in eyes! I too have fields now though not huge like my other friends as I have lesser neighbors but still I can grow any crop of my choice. I get a satisfaction when I grow a crop and harvest them. I feel happy when number of cows and hens increases in their shed and coop. My parents know only about eggs which they used to get in their farms but I get mystery eggs and they too in different colors every time.
Today, my farming world is virtual contrary to my childhood. And, I am happy with this virtual farm as I believe in intentions. It gives me a joy of doing some thing what my grandmother used to do. I am not sorry for my self but I am sorry for my grand children. I am sorry that I would have virtual tales to tell them about my farms and animals. Some times, I wonder would my senile eyes get moist when telling them my virtual tales! But I feel a sense of satisfaction when I see children of next generation of my own family telling me that I am too old fashioned and i don't know how to use machines. I feel sorry for kids of kids of this generation because they would not be able to understand the moisture in eyes.. I am sorry for the generations coming ahead..
Aakanksha
