Swinging at Shivaji Park

... Everytime, I see a swing my mind races down to that moment in time and space, i lived in at Shivaji Park, Dadar.
Every Saturday morning - me, aai and varun (that is when he came into being) - used to bungle into a 368 BEST bus (plz correct if the bus number is wrong, gale) and head towards dadar- my grandfather's house. It was like a little family thing where baba used to join us later in the evening. I still remember the bus ride so vividly. Those were my small windows of acquaintance with the outside world.
Anyways, so the evening were filled with the walk into Shivaji PArk. All those horse-rides, merry-go rounds, running on the playground, staring at the balloon-sellers, bubble-makers, and that elusive budhi-ke-bal (aai never bought them for me. She said that its made of gutter-water. And till date, I have never touched it). And the days turned into night while a walking back home, gazing the stars. My only mission then was to count stars. I used to tell everyone that one day I will be successful.
The biggest highlight of the entire itinerary was to grab on the swing. So, I used to queue up along with aai and wait for my prized moment. And there I was, swinging high up into the sky. Aai or sometimes it was mausi who pushed the swing into force, as my feet never reached the ground. The feeling of flying high high on the swing is so blissfully, blissfully happy. Only a kid know that. Then I eagerly waited for the day when I would grow up and, my feet would reach the ground and I would swing, fly high on my own.
But then the days did come and the act didn't seem fun anymore. Strange, thats how it is - you never what you are live into until it has long gone. I did try my legs on a swing recently but the feeling just didn't seem as it was back then... somewhere back in 1990s :)