Of things that get lost somewhere along the way

I remember when I was 7 years old, I beat up Dilip because he wouldn’t let me play with his G.I. Joe. When my mother was trying to drag me off his battered form, I vowed that I would get a bigger, better toy. Needless to say there was no toy, forget bigger or better, in the near future ‘until I repent’: my dad’s edict. Crying and pleading didn’t really work when I was sporting bruised knuckles (Damn that kid’s tough skin!) So, I sulked for quite a while. Then my dad, who was thankfully a li'l absentminded, got me that big plastic gun which makes those weird noises, from Japan. The next day I sneaked it out the house in the sack of my schoolbag and flaunted it like a terrorist in Afghanistan. Then of course the usual happened. My teacher took it away because I was disturbing her precious class. My parents got called. The word expulsion was bandied about. My dad of course tried to talk sense into me. But I had my own special dictionary which I relied on. **Fade out**


**Fade in** Next, I got caught stealing a money from home to which my dad threatened to plonk me in the slammer. **Fade out**


**Fade in** The following episode was one where I hit a boy with three scales because he was annoying me. **Fade out**


**Fade in**Then got caught for copying a test. **Fade out**



I wonder now, what happened to that li’l girl. So full of energy and life… I miss her.

Of the Outdoors

Since my last slightly morbid post I have tried to put my life in perspective and, pepper over it some positivity (don’t know if it’s a word, but it seems the best fit). But being an inherently negative person, the positivity is quite minimal. Ergo my grand plans of appreciating the color of the sky, the quirkiness of human-nature, the sound of flying birds and blah… blah… blah… didn’t last longer than a few hours. But as long as it did last, it ended up giving me quite a roaring migraine. And as usual this unique incident led to the reminiscing of the minimal other experiences in my life which of course sprouted forth a few more questions and theories.

1. It’s commonly said and believed, the minute you want to take a photograph of a particularly beautiful moment, and you have already stopped appreciating it. But we always carry our cameras whenever we go on a trip or to a special occasion. Does that mean we don’t want to experience/ appreciate beauty?
2. If it is for the sake of nostalgia, why take a picture of something you’ve already stopped appreciating?
3. Why would a person ridiculously scared of / disgusted by insects (which most of us are) go on a camping trip? I mean you obviously don’t want them in your domain, why go out in theirs’ and then scream bloody murder?
4. Why is it that people are uncommonly excited about getting wet in the rain? I mean how different is it from a shower? If we still end up comparing the two, isn’t a shower better? The water in the shower is not a mildly corrosive acid. You get to frolic without you clothes on. And finally, people don’t gawk at you like you are stupid. It looks to be a no brainer!!!

All these points said, my final conjecture is that I have become too citified for my own liking. So I have decided to pack up my lotions and heavy socks and long pants and go on a nature trip. The primary purpose of course being - the ‘appreciation of nature’ and the secondary being – proving my above theories. I am naturally taking my camera with me… because knowing me, I might just need it.