One Thousand and One Nights

The Summer of my childhood was filled with laughter , magic , genies , flying carpets , Persian rugs , semi precious stones , caves , tricksters , princes and palaces .

While the rains would lash out from the swollen skies in Mumbai , I would be carried by the wings of my imagination ...to a place far far away .

Where Scheherazade - would narrate fabulous stories , night after night ..Through moonlight and moonless nights . The one thousand and One Nights .
Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves , Seven Voyages of Sindabad , Alladin and the Magic Lamp .

Silk Curtains would flutter against painted windows ,Jasmine would hint the humid summer air , frescos and gargoyles would stare out of the dark nights , candles would burn as the desert wind howled through the minarets and magic would happen .
Bright Turbans , streets paved with hope and prosperity , veiled belly dancers , proud stallions , kohl lined eyes filled with longing and fists of fury .

Good would triumph over evil , The Rags would become the Rich , True love would find its calling and the colours of those vivid stories would forever paint the sky of my younger years in bright vivid technicolor.

Legends Never Die and Heros Live Forever .
But Time ....Time Changes everything .

And watching the news this morning - I am worried about the world and the summers of thousands of children who watch guns and armored tanks and mortar shelling on the same paved streets that Sindabad once walked on.
Who Live in war stories instead of reading them .

So wherever you are - if you are reading this , say a prayer , open Seasame or whatever you will for the scores of young ones who cant see the blue summer sky through the haze of smoke.