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It was my birthday the other day. And a balloon or two were spared from the audacity of the ferocious balloon-poppers. And I thanked God for that. You see, I don’t enjoy the usual enjoyments enjoyed by the jolly people of this world. I have my peculiar set of delectation, and they usually do not involve a lot of people.
I was looking at the balloon, and was thinking about how I would bask from this amazing little sport. I threw the balloon up towards the ceiling. The ceiling fan threw it back at me, taking help of Gravitational force, somehow trying to overpower me. I managed to catch it back and threw it again with greater force. This time it reached the ceiling. But this wasn’t fun.
So I sat there, balloon in my hand, quandary in my eyes. Just then my mother comes to my rescue. I don’t know what crossed my mind, but I just threw the balloon at her, to which she countered with an amazing smash. I managed to lift the balloon up with my long legs, and got the game going.
We continued playing balloon volley for almost half-an-hour. And there were moments of ecstasy, moments of walking on the air, while playing with Mom. We laughed, cried out in excitement of our great shot or shock of opponent’s great answer, we enjoyed that silly little game.
What could have been a millisecond worth of thrill by popping the balloon turned out to be a long, happy memory for me.
We got tired and eventually pulled the plug of the game in the middle. There were no scores kept, but only joy. The smile on her face was satisfying.
When life seems dull and dark, try to spread the light by burning the candles of hope… And remember to recycle them 😉
P.s.: In the evening, the kid next door came and marked his mark on the balloon. And I couldn’t do anything, but to watch him take away my treasure. Okay, I did annoy him by holding the balloon above his height, but that’s a different story. 😛