The day I waved those colourful blocks
In front of your chubby and soft innocent face
Although your eyes caught them as mere shadows
Your black, beetle-like large circles darted alertly.
My dear child,
Since then,
I have seen the wonder in your eyes.
Within tiny fingers, soft like fresh rose petals
Little things became their mesmerised captives
In those tender confines, they were turned and turned
This way and that way, dropped and picked, and explored.
My dear child,
Then too,
I have seen the wonder in your eyes.
Soon that sweet little pinkish tongue too
Swung into action in a milestone-filled drama
You wanted to demystify the conundrum called world
Through taste – crawling and then walking towards targets.
My dear child,
Then too,
I have seen the wonder in your eyes.
What do I say of how music touched you?
That magic that has permeated a wonderstruck you
That which has soothed your fears and made you joyous
Each time, you have looked deeply at the source of sound.
My dear child,
Then too,
I have seen the wonder in your eyes.
When the power of words entered your life
First to be understood and then to be spoken
What was seen, felt, heard and tasted
In words, they found a joyous, new expression.
The beauty of articulation coloured our lives
Like million colours splashed on a canvas
Like the many hues of the evening sky you looked up at
Pointed a finger to and mouthed your wonder.
And like the pigeon that you watched awestruck
With pure, innocent joy, as it flapped its wings and flew
Your wonder too found a pair of strong wings
Ready to take flight into unknown realms.
Molten wonder was cast into baffling moulds
Those moulds called thought-provoking questions
Why, what, how and when have now entered our world
Only to be heard incessantly, defining the deep thirst to know.
My dear child,
Now too,
I see the wonder in your eyes.
But what I also see, at times
Is hurt and disappointment
Born out of unconvincing answers
That fail to satisfy your curiosity
The shortcomings and impatience
Of an adult’s mind
Marring the joy of exploration.
Don’t give up, o’ little one,
On this beautiful emotion called wonder
It’s a gift that we have failed to guard
For ourselves
Letting human wrath corrode
And turn wonder into rust.
Don’t give up, o’ little one,
On this beautiful emotion called wonder
I promise, I will walk along
With as much open mindedness
As this demands.
Perhaps then, I will rediscover
Somewhere along the way
The joys of wonder.