All the five children were rich. Their parents were obscenely rich and consequently, them also. They used to live in a posh area and were driven in posh cars. We admired them. We wished, very strongly, to be them. When they came for the holidays in our poverty-stricken township, they used to be our friends. Then, we could laugh together. Feel proud among our peers for having rich friends. Slowly then came the time for tears when their parents came to take them. It was not us who shed the tears but them. They wept for they did not want to leave. They really cried bitterly, wishing to still be playing with us. We, the poor children, just sat watching. We watched them being persuaded. And after some time they would go and ride the car, still weeping. And then we would wave at them. Wave and wave, even after the car had gone out of sight, until our hands ached. Then, we would forget them and resume our games. The rich children admired us than we admired them. That is ...
...writings and recollections; thoughts too.