Childhood was no child’s play, at least in my opinion.
Pampered rotten as a child, I was easily spooked. Bedtime involved checking under the bed , in fact every possible nook and corner of the room for unfriendly Carpers. Still many a night I would run screaming to my dads room, who was a certified ghost buster or so I believed. Many of the ghosts incidentally turned out to be harmless rattling of window panes or howling dogs.
Drunks shared podium with ghosts in the vast array of my childhood fright list. My neighbor was a well qualified otherwise well behaved gentleman who went to work like every other dad. But he returned home like a train wreck. In fact he would be so drunk , he would forget where his house was and barge into strangers home. Needless to say I would run a mile when I saw him.
Childhood gave way to teenage and adulthood, the ghosts never disappeared , but they too have changed .
The workplace politics, the unrequited love, the tumultuous marriage, the troubled finances; the many ghosts of our adult life keeping us awake, making us run, if only from ourselves.
Times , when we fondly remember the ghosts of our childhood , which, unlike those today, we could run away from , would disappear on command .
Photo Courtesy : Manoj S K ( FB)