I have observed that a warm drink and the newspaper is a morning ritual in many households. I skim through the headlines as reading on my phone has grown on me. Last year's headlines could not have been imagined. As these papers are archived, I wonder how the children of 2100 would look back on the history unfolded in 2020. These times as we live will find their place in yellowing pages, in an unassuming corner of a textbook, if textbooks would exist then.

The children sit in a circle and pass a coloured ball and some paper. They are playing social distancing games. I try to make sense of this game, and I fail. I notice how their games, too, have changed with time. I look back at the paper I absentmindedly hold, glancing at the headlines.

I wonder how these headlines would be if I let the children rewrite these headlines. I completely understand that they would have pursued a degree or perhaps honed their writing skills. But they're all six years, maybe seven years old now. I do not want to disrupt their game, so I scribble down some sentences.

'Ma's Dosas: Burnt Ones are In'

'Superman pants: Dad's office wear'

'The Unmute Tales: Ms T's Class'

'Crayons on Walls: Unhappy Parents' 'Everyone on Screens: Need to Play Outside'

I look back at them, wondering if their headlines would resemble my own. I begin to laugh. I hold the newspaper with stories from the world outside I need to be informed of (when I have the space to). I hold these warm headlines as a 6-year old would write.

I sit back, holding two different worlds in my hands. One, the world we live in, the world as it is. And the other, a world that is softened with hope, perhaps smaller and full of possibilities.