Radio Song

If I could time travel — I would visit and visit often…
The times when I wondered about the world that lived inside the radio

When I spent several minutes every day staring at the holes of the speaker to see if I can somehow decipher — how the buffalo, *dholak*, men, women, singers made their way inside. How tiny they must be!

I believed in Thumbelina and felt like Gulliver often, except I wasn’t tied in chains and thought of ways to fly to the sun

Colored chalks made the best gift in the world and I could paint the entire home pink, blue, red and several colors.

Magnifying glass could do magic — you could make paper burn when you held it right under the sun.

When the construction truck dropped bricks and sand in front of our homes — heartbeats would stop. For the next few weeks we would roll and build sand castles, balance precariously on the bricks and often make red brick powder with which we could color each other.

Paper airplanes flew around as we did headstands on the pillow. I followed the brother around to annoy him, squabbling over biscuits, and another square of dairy milk.

We often imagined that you could put any home on wheels and pull and take it to wherever you go.

The moon followed us everywhere and we believed we could actually finish counting the stars someday.

I did not know of Santa. But I knew of a radio with people inside it. And then just like that people stopped living inside it.

Every single time cynicism hits me and the world seems impossible, I want to travel — and visit a time when the world was possible. To bring back pieces of wonder with which to look around to still believe we can fly to the sun — to the center of the universe even with faces painted with red brick powder!

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