It's right in front of me, right above my head - the flawless sky who smirks for being there for years and not wearing out. It nags me on looking older every day, I'm ugly - It is beautiful. I'm adorned with hair and dirt, looking straight at the sk...
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It is described in many ways — the huge playground of eerie, adventures. We land here as toddlers searching for a new companion, creating a new game to play, fearless of every possible hazards and excited to merge in the dust filled air of this place.
Every game and a new adventure is scheduled to a time which no one can ever change, which is purely a dark, strange looking guide.
Realizing the fact that every kid visits the playground only once until the sun sinks under the mountains, makes me feel very strange.
Walking and running around this place, I've noticed that the guide is invisible to the ones playing and exploring this place, some are here with their guardians and some are here without any guidance — figuring out how to interact with every atom of this land. We also relate with eachother at some point, no matter how many days we have spent here in this green carpetted land of deception; we just relate. One of the rules of this place is that no one grows up from spending days; everyone has a checklist with different categories of adventures written down as objectives — we grow by completing every objective and as we grow, we meet new people; grown up no matter how many days they have spent on this land — they are just looking forward to grow more.
There also comes a time when we fall straight on the ground, getting a fresh wound on the knee or elbow — frightened of the red liquid oozing out of the skin, we cry, we stare at it until it turns numb. What is the secret of this healing sight? I've wondered about this common, super power for years. What can we do when someday our own companions scrape off the hardened wound turning it into a painful, immortal scar? It's so shocking that the sight dominates the pain from our nerves, there is pain flowing through the blood but we just feel it in the central unit in-between our chests: The heart.
It's just unpredictable and strange to participate in all these adventures which in turn helps us grow from toddlers into youngsters to wise old men, still stuck in the circle of this deserted playground. We are seeing the new-comers running around while sitting on the benches and remembering the old times of our adventures. They are curious about all the pebbles lying beside the lake, why would anyone toss them there? But they will grow one day, they just have to go through all those adventures.
Spectating around in this playground, I have noticed that some kids disappear — the guide leads them away to a place which is unseen; without a name.
He still stands over our heads — he never knocks the door.
Note: This essay was originally published on The Scribbled Kite: http://thescribbledkite.com/essays/eerie-playground
