Fly Away

It was not for nothing that Hrishkesh Mukherji made the opening shot of 'Zindagi Kaisi ye Paheli' a bunch of balloons receding higher into the skies. There is something utterly fascinating, mysterious, profound and yes - just a tad melancholic about a bunch of balloons flying up and up.
After several years now, I am suddenly reminded of a half-forgotten and yet not really forgotten memory.
I was nine then, and still too young to give up on balloons. We were seated on the terrace, forced to enjoy the moonlight because of the customary power cut. I remember being exteremely bored and bothered when Mom suddenly pointed out a distraction. Nothing less than a large orange and yellow balloon that came floating in! It was evidently losing its byuoant gas for it came close enough to us. I shouted 'Grab it' to Mamma, but she had stretched for it almost before I yelled. But the naughty balloon had plans of its own. It danced out of her reach, landed on a window sill for one tantalizing moment, and then, sort of making one last valiant effort - gathered all its dying energy just like an injured soldier, and flew away.
I still remember the ruckus I created for that balloon. Dad was more than willing to stem my tears and get me a new one but you see - the silly me wanted that balloon and none other.
I often played with balloons since that summer evening. Blown them and burst them, dribbled them and byoued them to the roof. But the sight of a balloon rising in a sky has always made me philosophical at worst and despondent at best. What is it? The ominous parallel to a soul leaving for its last journey? Or a childhood memory converting it into a symbol of treasure found suddenly and lost with equal abruptness? Of unkept promises? Of things that could be and yet just did not materialize even after efforts were made? Of in fact, the futility of effort? I am inclined to think it has become to me a symbol of all these. Also a symbol of the silly, sensitive and stubborn nine year old me. :)