The child is dead

I am a grown up man now. I will be in a job (hopefully) in another three months. And as one of my seniors promised today, I might as well be heading a 100 crore profit centre in another three years. What is my age? Well, I think one should have the basic courtesy of not asking a twenty six year old his age.
I remember having these very dreams in my child hood. And I would relive all those dreams by playing office on my study table, every day over and over again. The office would be my spacious bedroom, complete with a table, diaries, product brochures, which would serve as files, a luxor pilot pen, gifted on my 10th birthday by my father and a pen stand (This pen by the way was used only when I played office. In school it would always be fountain pens). And yes, I used to have a secretary too, Sunita, the daughter of my neighbour, Rao uncle. Sunita’s brother, Sudhakar would be the peon, whose only job would be to fetch me water. I was the CEO, the boss. (I was not aware of the meaning of CEO, but was definitely aware of the power, the boss could and did yield ).
Today, by God’s grace and my parents’ blessings, I am pretty close to fulfilling that dream of mine. The day is not far when I will have my own table with my laptop on it and real files surrounding me, not the product brochures which I would earlier pass on as files. But I am not happy. I am pretty close to barking orders on the phone, as I would do then, whenever Sunita would call me to receive a “phone call”, but I am not ecstatic.
The reason, after I assume the position, I will have to behave as a “manager”. Exactly as I had to behave then with Sunita, snapping at her for not typing a letter on time. By the way, the type writer would be the snake and ladder part of my LUDO board. I am often reminded that my conduct should be like that of a manager, which I would become in another three months. I am often reminded, that I am no longer the “mummy ka pyaara beta” which I would be then. I am not expected to mimic animals’ voices, because that will put a label on me. I am not expected to cuddle stray puppies and feed them with biscuits, because that is something which managers probably don’t do. I am not expected to buy yo-yos from the footpath for someone I love, because, as a student of this well known management institute in Western India, I am probably not expected to do that. (This was pointed out to me by a friend). I am not expected to be emotional, because managers probably don’t have hearts and are “men” (Forget Roger Federer, he is a sissy). Today I fear having an inky finger, because it would quickly be pointed out that I might be heading a company ten years from now, so I better learn handling a fountain pen.
Irrespective of what I wanted to be fifteen years back, today, I want to become a child again. I want to dance on the streets after India beats Pakistan in a cricket match. I want to have the taste of the rain drops on my tongue. I want to jump on the puddles of water, a common sight in our country, after any shower. I want to sing my lungs out in the bathroom. I want the reassurance that my classmates are my friends and not my competitors. I want to be excited at the prospect of going home and being with my parents. And I want to do these without ever giving a thought to what others would think of me.
Today as I see a ten year old playing with the puppies, just outside the gate of my institute, or when I see another child jumping in the puddles of water, I am jealous of him. I ask myself, is this why we aspire to become “someone” in life? To weigh the pros and cons of everything before we set a foot forward. To bury the carefree child deep down within us, so deep, that it finds it impossible to express itself. So that cannot even reminisce about our childhoods, because no one else has the time to listen to that “crap”.
Have we grown up? I think, we have grown out. Grown out of the child in us. Grown out of those carefree days. Grown out of the human being, which we are in the first place.