Memory of Wonderland

Call me an escapist but…

I want to be a kid again because coloring out of the lines was alright. It meant the page had that much more colors.

I want to be a kid again because everything was a mystery and not just physics, chemistry, biology or economics.

Childhood was the kingdom where not only did they not die but people lived happily now and ever after.

No amount of jumping around tired our tiny bodies, scrapes and bruises were medals of honour.

I want to be a kid again because nap time should be zero fun. Because life was or could be much better than anything I could dream of.

We could be anything we desired and few bothered to contradict our reasoning.

The monster was still under the bed, not a shadow following one around.

Make belief was the way to pass the time, and not looked down upon as leading a delusional lifestyle, afraid to face the reality.

It isn’t that life hasn’t taken a turn for the better, it has. Living alone, making way for myself – that was the dream. There are more opportunities that I can grab at 20 than I ever could at 5 (hell, I couldn’t grab the candies at the end of the candy race), but how we looked at life and at ourselves, that has suffered and taken a beating. Earlier you tied a cape around yourself and you believed you are Superman. You believed you are capable of doing greater things in your life; you just had to wait till you were grown up. And eat green vegetables while you were at it.

Well, I have had my share of green veggies, now where did all the belief go?

Photography courtesy: Childhood Magic Photography

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