I am Jealous of a nine year old. !!!!!!!!!!!!

I am jealous of Tanmay. Doesn’t matter that he is only a precocious nine old boy.

This is the reason why:

He leads a much more happy and wholesome life while I try to find the meaning of my life.
When I look at the rains, I am grumpy and worry about getting my clothes muddied. When he looks at the rain, he sees a holiday, hot pakoras and paper boats.
When I say I don’t have money , he grabs my wallet and checks it and smiles impishly that it is full. Full enough to buy him plenty of dairy milk and cheerios. He is happy with a wallet full of money I wouldn’t be happy with a bank full of money.
While I am just making a living, he dreams of a career. Never mind if it is a pilot, or an engine driver or a doctor depending on his mood.

While I play with him and fall down, the doctor warns me to be careful of my tennis elbow; which means no play. When he falls and breaks his shin, it heals in a day and he is ready to play and ready for another fall.
The politicians don’t depress him. He wants to become an MP so he can have fun in the parliament and throw chairs and flower pots.
The CWG bothers him too. Because his dad is watching the news making him lose precious time of watching Ben 10 and aliens or Hatori or chicken stew.
While I eat tasteless sprouts for breakfast, he orders noodles, aloo paranthas and thickly buttered toast.
While I see gloom, he sees happiness.

While I would be unhappy to lead a company of 300 employees , he is happy to be a bench leader even if it means minding just three boys including himself on his bench.
While I take a pen to write checks to pay my bills, he draws colorful pictures.
He still believes that Dr. Kalaam is the President of India because his book says so. I do not correct him because I wistfully wish he was right.
He confuses about the duties of the President and the PM. I Know he unwittingly is right. Both are rubber stamps.

He dreams of colors. I sleep dreamless with sleeping pills.
Green for him is emerald green of the lush green grass. I see green as in envy. The red for him is the sun rise. I am red with rage. Blue for him is the ocean. I am blue when I am sad.

He is tired of learning. I am tired of being wise. He is tired of being young. I am tired of being old.

Lets make a deal son.
Here are my car keys, my cheque books , my apartment and my adulthood.
Let me barter it for your youth, your cheerfulness and your innocence.

( Both the pictures have been drawn and colored by him.)