A thing for swings…

I trust a hemp rope as much as I trust the rusty iron chain when it comes to swings.  I don’t discriminate between a wooden, a plastic or even a rubber tire seat when it comes to swings. I just have a thing for swings. I’ll bribe away the kids or may be even shoo them away if they make me wait too long for my turn.

On a little windy evening, watch the dancing shadows of the dusk swing into night.  The receding shadows at their elusive best! I love the highs and I love the lows. I know the tricks too well; I’ll throw myself forward I’ll pull myself behind. It’s just a matter of time, when I begin to hear the sound of my hair playing in the wind-(I’d shampoo my hair any day if there’s a swing in the itinerary!). It’s lovely gazing at the night sky, leisurely swinging and spying on the stars above.  You might never reach them but there’s no stopping you from trying so here I tug the ropes more briskly taking my swing still higher above.

On a lazy afternoon, putting my swing under a shady tree, I like to swing gently with a gossipy partner.  It’s fun to start with small talk and then muse philosophically but it’s equally convenient vice-versa. It’s all the more special if someone buys you an ice-cream and then you relish it on a swing. (All the above events are no figments of imagination they bear close resemblance to few eventful days in other wise mundane life.)

I caught on the ‘swinging  bliss’ in Kolkata. How I miss the park nearby my apartment where I’ve spent countless evening with my roomies and close friends. Then there were the innumerable fairs year long in some or the other parts of the city, and the biggest draw-yes the swings! Bizarre swings, some made your head spin, the others had some serious momentum issues but I’m willing to forgive that all as long as I get to scream and shout with friends.  I have managed two swinging evenings in Hyderabad so far. I was fortunate to have a swinging morning in garden city Bangalore while on a weekend trip.  I’m surprised at how vividly I remember each of the days. Perhaps my childhood is swinging back again for all the days that swung past without a swing.