When I was little kid, I made a promise to myself. I promised that I would never grow up. Even at that young age, I knew that being a grown-up wasn’t a fun thing. And true to that promise, I still love a lot of stuff that I loved as a little boy. But still, growing up into this almost six-foot figure has taken its toll. I recently visited the ancient city of Thanjavur (aka Tanjore), which happens to be my parents’ birthplace. I went there by train along with some of my family members, and I looked long and hard at the railway station and the surrounding area that I so often had visited over the years. There was a time, which extended even onto the last leg of my teenage years, when travelling by train to Thanjavur excited me so much. I loved trains and being at Thanjavur was always exciting. But not anymore. I didn’t feel anything whilst I was there. I rummaged through some of my old memories and still I felt nothing. It was a depressing moment. “What has happened to me?” I questioned myself. Is this how all grown-ups feel? I think, as a child, everything looks so fresh and exciting to us. Once we grow up, the freshness of this world disappears.
When will I reach my Neverland?
Afterthought: I still get excited when I travel to new places — especially, if that new place is a hill station.