Little Nevaan's World

 

All activities are a playful game to Nevaan and everything a toy. A little heap of woolen socks nicely washed in fragrant detergent, for example. He is doodling on the wall. Childhood is always eager for a bear hug with sweet, little, innocent mischiefs. It’s a dreamscape entirely in a different dimension that unfortunately we forget as we grow old, as thinking mind makes blatant transgressions into the flowering treescape of pure heart.

As he doodles, he seems one of the utmost summiteers of unbridled creativity. His lines are snaking through the established shapes and designs to chart out fresher domains on the canvas of childhood. We elders are extensive on rhetoric but puny on content. But boundless is the childhood’s content. It’s like riding the wave crests glowing on a full moon night. So, as he rides his shiny waves, paddling his little doodle boat with a chalk piece, he hits the shores, so needs more space to keep rowing. He needs wipers to keep enough clean space for his compelling and hypnotizing artistry. The fresh laundry serves a better purpose than what it would do in shoes. The wet woolen socks clean the walls really well.

I am jogging in the yard but my effort to still stay in workable condition is nothing more than a cat and mouse game to him. He leaves the wall clean and catches onto the piece of play offered by a middle-aged man trying to stay in shape. I am the cat so I have claws scratching my back. I am yet to overcome the shock of being a mouse then I suddenly realize I am a thief because the game has suddenly turned into police and thief. I get pounded on my modest bum as he tries to catch the thief who is trying to sneak away from the arms of law. Then he is a boxer decimating an opponent who is just shuffling around the arena. Then all and sundry games follow that he can think of on the basis of all the information he has gathered from watching cartoon programs on television.