A fresh look tends to spark excitement, but my situation tells a different tale. What good is a stunning facelift and captivating appearance if there’s no one around to voice their admiration? That’s where my story begins.
The government decided to rejuvenate this park, where I—a charming airplane for children—have resided for over thirty years. Officials arrived with teams to repair my worn-out seats and paint me in vibrant colours.
So here I am, standing, but all alone! Times have changed, along with the children. No child is interested in playing in the park, or running inside an airplane. They probably travel by air, unlike kids of the earlier days. So, what would a fancy airplane for children hold any more?
With nostalgia, I remember the days when little ones flocked to the park, and none would leave without climbing aboard their favourite plane. Sure, there were a few troublemakers. Two kids, probably neighbours, Shankar and Malini, come to mind. One moment, they’d be gleefully leaping from one seat to another in my embrace, and the next, they’d be arguing.
Once, Shankar nearly swung a cricket bat at Malini, but she cleverly dodged him, resulting in him breaking one of my seats instead. They dashed away, only to be caught by the gardener, who summoned their parents.
The parents arrived, but they began the blame game. Yet, amidst the chaos, I noticed them greasing the gardener’s palm.
The very next day, those two were back in the garden, hand in hand.
One day, I noticed Malini was in tears. The ten-year-old shared with Shankar—who was just slightly older—that her father was being transferred to Calcutta, and she would have to leave. Shortly after, Shankar also stopped coming. I overheard some women discussing his situation: he had lost his father, and his family had relocated.
Slowly, the park began to empty. While children would show up, they were typically glued to their video games, barely interacting with each other. Parents seldom accompanied them like they used to, and even when they did, they, too, were preoccupied with their devices.
How I longed for the days of Malini and Shankar!
Just then, my wish was granted—a stunning woman approached, and, of course, it was Malini! She reached out to touch me affectionately, her face lighting up with a smile. And look, here comes Shankar! He’s making his way towards her. I felt a rush of importance—these two must have found each other after nearly a decade and eight years, and they chose to reunite right here beside me!
“Can we go inside and sit?” they ask the gardener, the same one. He smiles warmly and replies, “Of course, go ahead. It’s meant for kids, but they hardly come anymore. You can both revive your childhood here.” He recognises them, too. They settle into two freshly renovated seats within my frame, sharing stories and admiring my new look.
In that moment, I felt whole and utterly fulfilled.