It was hot dusty afternoon of may 2008 in Jhansi. Peeping out of old residential quarter in cantonment I see a red and yellow balloon talking to loo and old fragile body peddling cycle. Occasionally blowing a whistle. He came every afternoon. Kids would run out towards him with their mom yelling from behind. 2 for 10. Helium filled balloon. Most children leave that balloon and it would fly away. And then start whining untill sad mother will buy again. Though some mothers would kick there child and that was some sight.
Old man would peddle all over the cantt. I would see him near school, near CSD, at pagal gymkhanas, new quarter old quarter every where. Those days cantt accomodation were open. Golgappa, bangles, fish, fruit seller every one could enter.
Some days later we shift to new quarters. Balloon man found his way Into it. Kids were again fan of his whistle. Six years later, dad retired. We moved into civilian life. Away from lush green open area of cantt. Things became different. Unprecedented and unwanted. Everything was changed except balloon seller. He found his way. This time I bought 2. Yellow ones. I let them hover on my roof. I came from school and they were gone.
Few years I went to another city. Came back after 4 years. This was 2019. I saw lean man. White shirt and brown pants. A skeleton body peddling up the hill. Balloons were few, whistle was lost too. He couldn’t hold and fell. Crowd gathered. Few good men offered him water. He stood up and went into oblivion.
Never saw again….
Little Cloud Tales 