Once upon a time…

Kobra |

These are small words, but while hearing it, I travel to my childhood and laugh at my silly childhood.
I grew up with Fairytales which were full of Magic and adventure.
I always searched for the heroes in my stories, in real life, and believed that “Magic existed”.  In all my troubles, I always waited for a fairy or jinni to come and solve my problems which were usually huge for me, as child.
Whenever I lost the way to my home, I used to get afraid. I had to make sure that I did not enter any ‘evil’ home. The belief according to the stories from Afghanistan was that, the unknown houses were evil houses.
These stories were my biggest entertainment, instead of googling every query, and spending hours on the social media.
All my dreams and wishes were not actually, to grow up like “lost boys in wonderland”.
When I was growing up, I realized that I can’t believe in Fairy tales and day dream about them.
With development of the society, time became more valuable. Unfortunately, now, there is no time for reading, even a small story book.
I feel very lucky because I lived my childhood!  I didn’t have to behave like an adult during my childhood. Not like today’s kids, who sacrifice their childhood for becoming successful, compared to a few others. Listening to the fairytales seem to be a childish act for them!
With advancement in technology, everyone is going to be separated from each other. We are so overwhelmed by technology, that the real world is strange and alien to us!
Going back to the Afghan stories, I think that technology is the story’s evil! Why? Because it is eating our sweet memories, our times of togetherness.  It is making us live like robots, whereby we need to work all the time.
Only a true “Magic” can save us, and bring back our smiles- only true Magic.
Sometimes stories can lead to dreams. There are some people who cannot reach their goals and the only other thing that they can do, is to dream about them. Unfortunately, I am like these kind of people. I couldn’t fulfill my explorations about having a collection of unique dreams.
The place where I lived in Afghanistan, was not a place for exploring. We were not allowed to enter the spaces, where there were possibilities of finding interesting objects.
We were not allowed as the atmosphere there was always tense. It could take a violent turn any moment.
All my dreams were shaped by my mother’s stories. In the stories, she always described her childhood with a lot of interest.
My mom climbed the highest mountain in her village. Once, I also wanted to climb a mountain with my father. The young boys who were living near the mountain, told my father that the” place is not safe”. My father told me that the next time we come, we will climb to the highest point of mountain. But that day never came.  My mom had all the adventures that I dream about. She travelled alone, rode horses for fun. My mother enjoyed her life. Without fear, she fulfilled all her wishes.
I tried to make my dreams come true!  But life is not like fairy tales. In real life, dreams will remain dreams forever. Yet, fairy tales and stories make us learn about so many wondrous things about life!
My childhood was sacrificed for unwanted wars which I have no interest in, and was not even a part of. Why couldn’t I enjoy my childhood? Why? I always had the dream to walk in the Gardens, without any fear and ride a horse, like my mother did. But only in dreams I can do those only in dreams.

Comments are closed.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑