Balloons were a childhood delight. To the not-so-smart generation that did not get gadgets to play with, balloons used to be festive things. Things that brought alive a colourful palette of wonderstruck imagination, in multiple shapes. Allowances were little, for pocket-money used to be a sacrilegious concept signifying a spoilt brat at the receiving end, and choices were few - perhaps, the reason why happiness was easily attained. And so when you had an occasional penny, you almost rushed for a balloon. Smaller ones for fifty paise, bigger ones for a rupee. You watched the balloon seller mesmerized as he blew his breath into the little pouch of your chosen colour with all his might. And once you had got it, you treasured it, as it gradually shrunk in size, day by day. Today the price for balloons hasn't gone up much. A minimum is still around five rupees. Well...human breath was always cheap. No amount of inflation has raised its worth. Looking back, there's just this sad fairytale remembrance of 'once upon a time' when life was easy, desires were simple and breathing could create spheres of untainted happiness.