When one is kid and somebody promises to take you the beach or buy you an icecream or simply tell you a bedtime story, believe me, the joy of anticipation is inexplicable.
Every moment of a child's life is filled with an absorbing eagerness, a kind of glee and a smug comforting thought. The young ones have so few expectations, whose fulfillment seems so possible, intimidating perhaps, big maybe, but definitely not impossible.
And, Oh boy! If somebody promises them something then it is considered done. They would spend hours talking about it to all and sundry, picking the thought apart into myriad pieces, showing off.
It is a 'Promise.' don't you know? Some even spit and shake hands over the treaty. Some use blood to seal the treaty.
Somebody has promised so they are not worried about the magnitude of the task or the logistics. They do not care if it is raining outside and thus the trip to the library, awaited for a week has to be made. After all the Tintin comicbook has to be returned and the Nancy Drew case file mystery has to be borrowed. And the Famous Five's exploits to be shared with the other kids.
As they turn older, they realise promises are made to be broken. Promises are made to avoid confronting tantrums, they are made to ensure a false sense of security and to cover up the big strong adult's inadequacies. Promises are made to escape and build a false world for kids, who are taught that everything is hunky dory in the world outside. It is still rosy out there cause the adult is giving them the rose coloured spectacles which he has himself cast away.
Promises are made perhaps to shield kids of the hurt and the disappointment that is due when they realise the moon is not a plaything and cannot be brought into their bedrooms. But, the kid knew that already because Chandamama had told her so. The adult weaves beautiful, fantastic tales and confuses the kid who then starts believing. Starts believing that the moon can be captured and made her toy forever. Fantasy is shortlived, stories are meant to end and the young heart keeps wondering what happened. Why the promise when the moon had told her it was not to be?
End of innocence? Bang!
You wake up one day and realise the day is not so fine. You are no longer a kid. You are supposed to realise that adults do not always say the truth. you are supposed to make decisions for yourselves as well as for others. You cannot behave on impulse and are supposed to be responsible for your conduct and emotions. You have to call a call a spade by some other name. Look Pa the emperor is not wearing any clothes is not admissible at all.
You have to mask your feelings and absolutely cannot tell somebody the truth about your emotions. Dress up and call the spade, a tool, a digging implement, a sophisticated gardening gadget-but never a spade. Euphemisms! some call it diplomacy. But I would say it is becoming an adult. And fair enough, the adult would certainly be laughed at and ostracised or executed for daring to burst the Emperor's bubble isn't it?.
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If you have had the chance to observe toddlers you would have noticed that almost every one of them has learnt t o walk by falling. not a single child I have known, possibly with the exception of my sister has ever walked without first crawling , walking on their knees and falling over. (Sis just stood up and started walking. Bright kiddo she has been all through.) It is called Life. She teaches you in her own painful way that there are no shortcuts, no other way. you want to run learn how to walk first. You want to walk? fall first. Get hit then move on.
You have a dream? Get on the tracks of life. Get moving. Slow and steady dies a silent death. don't you know?
What happens then if the tracks are not moving? Sit by the wayside and wait? What happens when you put on blinkers, refusing to see the reality. refusing to see that most people do not want what you have to give. They don't want your dreams. Or worse still they take it, toss it around in their hands, scutinise it, appreciate it and promise encouragement and then they toss it back at you. Painful, definitely. Muddied and dirty and bloody painful.
But nature has been devised to hurt only so much. and there is only so much pain a human is capable of taking. And excess can either kill him or turn him into a monster. Frankeinstien becomes numb and turns his anger on his creator, blaming Him for his misery and his life.
The fundamental belief in humans the trusting endearing quality of a child to blindly trust. Put out its hand, touch the other's face, hands, heart...
Great Expectations is another thing.
Trust tells you that it is wrong to expect, that the one you blindly trust even with your life will never let you down. Never Ever. Even when you think you are not doing great, they tell you to hang in there. They tell you Dont worry its gonna be alright.
You dont expect, but they do so anyway. And a small longing is born, longing for the comfort to be with you always for ever. They show you to look at it from a different angle and hey it works! The problem is solved. They tell you that the boss is paid to be disappointed. When the boss yells at you and tells you how much of a disappointment you have been to him, they tell you, Don't you know? "He is paid to be endure being 'disappointed.'" Your world with its multitude of cares is just like a miniscule cloud that is blown away with a puff.
The feeling is incredible. The needle on the giant barometer measuring emotions takes a full swing. From Great disappointment to Great exhilaration, akin to eating chocolate icecream.
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I n the Kodaikanal, which I am told is out of this world, there is this very special plant that bears the Kurinji flowers. It is special cause it blooms only once in 12 years. Spread across the Kodai hills,visitors jostle to get a glimpse of this rare flower. Some romantic fools attempt to take the plant with them, hoping to capture , in vain its exotic beauty. Selfish to make it their own.
Little do they realise the flower withers away quickly and does not grow elsewhere.
Nature nudging again. Somethings have to be enjoyed just like that. You cannot expect more or less. As long as you remember the golden dictum of 'No expectations,' everything is fine, you are happy, everybody is happy. Its all fun and partying. But Memory trips up, it is not so careful and there are bound to be slip ups and heartaches.
What can it do but melt in the face of a beautiful dream, that is too good to be true. Even Cinderella had to leave at the stroke of midnight. Time was on lease there.
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Just a few words, amazing isn't it. I would love to do that to somebody. Lift them from the deepest well of despondency and show them the light of joy and laughter. I call it Magic, the magical land of words and language. Without the power of expression one cannot have conveyed anything long-distance. A call can make a deal of a difference in somebody's life, the voice can make or break somebody's heart. And the written word, it is so much more profound. How rapidly it seeks you out and places you on a pedestal. Etches the rewards of merit and hardwork. Also, it sweeps the rug from under your feet. Brands you a failure. Stamps you as a has been, could do better. Gives you the message somebody has been trying unsuccessfully convey through unreturned phone calls and curt messages. don't want you in my life can not have been said better than through writing. Ah, finally it has registered! and who else to thank but language.
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A small black briefcase.
Filled with putty, the one that is used to make clay models. Numerous rolls of Xmas streamers, buntings and decorations, a cut out multicoloured butterfly paper mask, a plastic Santa Claus, a lot of toys, some of them broken, mangled and disfigured beyond recognition but favourites so cannot be discarded. Small postcard greetings, cards from classmates and friends. A diary with a steel cover, a harmonica, numerous loose sheets with colourful sketches, a few paintings, dried up rose, crayons, sketch pens, pencils, stationery. Nothing of monentary value, nothing expensive. Each item more precious than the world's greatest treasures, because it was placed there with a lot of care and hopes and dreams. It was the seed for many surprise gifts for friends and family, future creations. A small miniscule teeny-weeny bit of the heart in every object of the bag.
Ever heard of white ants? silverfish?
Realised what loss is. Knew what sorrow was. Felt the whole small universe had crashed. Never felt the same emotion again until was not accepted into the dream place. Felt the same sinking feeling again. The crushing pain returned after someone decided 'No thank you I dont want you, I have issues to deal with alone first.' . And then finally, Yesterday it was yesterday repeated.
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Have never gone fishing. (Sheez i dont know swimming, what will i do if i fall into the water?)
But sure read a lot about it. (No water there) and saw a great deal of movies.
I wonder what is a nice catch? A whale? or a trout?
Now let me think, can love be sold in the market? I have to find out whether share market issues scrips of that commodity, and who are all its distributors. Difficult though. Could it be loaned? Will it suffice to buy a Skoda? Maybe not. It is too less for that.
How much is that Doggie in the window? the one with the waggely tail. I dont want a bunny or a goldfish cause you cant take goldfish for walks in..... say, Lodhi Gardens! You cant kiss or hold a goldfish either.
Twelve kids will grow up listening to the news and tales of stock market fluctuations. They can get enough drama adventure and lessons of real life from these markets. Not for them fairytales. After all everything in life has a price. And there is nothing called priceless.Who needs dreams. They are for losers anyway. Love? a mere second hand emotion. who needs a heart when a heart can be broken.
Fishes are better. Put them in aquariums, eat them, and sell the good catch! No worries!

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Finito
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