My first post...

My little cousin came to me this other day and asked me "What is the capital of Bangalore?" I sat him down on my lap and explained to him what a country is and what a state and its capital is. he listened to me, wide eyed, mouth open, and continued staring at me long after I was done. I smiled to myself with satisfaction that I had enlightened the boy with some of my 'precious' knowledge. He then looked at me again with that same wide-eyed expression I loved so much, and shot his second question "In what country does India lie?" With all the patience that I could muster, I went on to explain again. He's just a child after all! This went on for quite sometime, and at one point it began to get on my nerves. I politely told him that I had loads to study and that I'd talk to him later. He obediently left. A mere few seconds later, he came back running, and said "I'm sorry for disturbing you. I just wanted to know if America was in India because I want meet spiderman". I wasn't sure if i wanted to laugh at his innocence or cry at his ignorance. I ended up yelling at him and shooed him away...
He left me thinking about this for long. It reminded me of my own childhood, and how I was as a child. So like him! both Ariens, with an unending curiosity for the  non-existent, an undeterred search for that fantasy world, our happy place. The world where a swoop of an arm would do our bidding, a world where I could fly, a world where wearing pants isn't compulsory...

But it is dangerous to keep children in the world of make-believe, because they will have a hard time relating to the real world during their adolescence. which was just what had happened with me. I was an overly pampered child, and adults found my obsession with the make-believe adorable. They let me stay in it. More like encouraged me to remain in it. And I faced the consequences later on. During my early teens, when I began viewing people the way they are and not how I wanted them to be, I became a confused child. It was all so bewildering, I lost focus. It was my obsession with the make-believe that made me an avid reader. I found my respite in the pages of those books, and I could forever lose my self in them. In my mind, I would become the protagonist and the story would enact itself, with every detail coming to life...

But I evolved. slowly, steadily. Changing myself bit by bit, so I wouldn't feel autistic, and yet remain happy. I learnt to keep a prefect balance between reality and fantasy, and this is what I am today. I will never stop dreaming because it is the foundation of my very character. But it often creates pent up emotions so deep, I crave to express them. And so here I am, blogging away! Telling everyone just how I feel... Not exactly my style, but will suffice for now...:)