There are good old days tucked away in the depths of everyone’s heart. Mine are a childhood of flowers and fireflies. Those days are nowhere to be found in today’s urban jungle of plastic, glass, metal and cement, but the details are as vivid as ever. They will never fade out.

I used to be in a tranquil rural neighbourhood. There lived a grandpa who would turn harsh when we kids sneaked into his garden and intended to pick his flowers. Most of the time, however, he treated us well with candy and cake. Thanks to his care over his small but bright garden and over us kids, my childhood was flowery and sweet.

No household in the neighbourhood had an air-conditioner installed in their home in those days. Strangely enough, summers did not feel as unbearably hot then as now. Was it because of the bamboo grove in the front of the neighbourhood?

Almost every evening after dinner, all the families, with chairs and hand-held fans, would pour out of their bungalows. There was relaxed chitchat in the cooler air at the hangout at the bamboo grove. No one was glued to a smart phone. There was no Wi-Fi, either. The adults were talking about their daily lives. The air was ringing with hearty laughter.

We kids were running about the neighbourhood, playing crazy games. Some nights, there was a big moon in the sky. Other nights, thousands of stars were twinkling overhead. Fireflies were flitting here and there. We ran after the flickering insects in the sweet summer air, laughing, frolicking and playing with glee.

It was such a fascinating bucolic scene that every time the memory flashes back, my heart is full of honey and bliss. To be honest, I, an urban dweller, have not seen any fireflies for years, confined to “modern” complexes of concrete and steel. I have not gone back to the good old dreamland for years. I miss it so much.

Is it still there, my dreamland, intact in this world developing at breakneck speed?