"When children wake up in the morning..."

Short observational post this one will be.
This was what prompted it:

"जब बच्चे सुबह सुबह उठते हैं,
तब बड़े cute लगते हैं।"

This was what I said to a friend, when she opened the door to my wake up call today morning.
While it was just a simple observation then, the significance it eventually weaved around itself, was... well it was just very, very beautiful.

Translating + paraphrasing the quoted lines, Children waking up in the morning are really cute.
Further deliberation pointed out the reason behind the accentuated cuteness. At that moment, eyes rubbing, hair ruffled, and a hint of dreaminess in the air, their minds are as blank as mortally possible. That unthinking mind shall soon to be engulfed in a thick mist of infinite shades, aimed at clearing the deepest puzzles of one's consciousness (calculus, finance, love, sorrow, life, anything!). However, for those unforgiving, impatient, fleeting moments, it is gloriously unaffected. It sees the world, the walls, the books, the people, itself, for the first time since its last excursion to that land of unfathomables. The curious observer in me wonders gleefully, if in fact that eternal chase for the elixirs and 42's of life, that we start on every such occasion, does in fact begin with the key right behind us, so close, yet so tragi-comically far; perhaps the answer lies in front of our eye in that moment, only to be flooded into oblivion by the incoming rush of knowledge, intelligence and the smarts.
Perhaps.

Finally, the last observation from that experience, wherein I drew on my memories from the years that have been my days. In that moment described above, one doesn't need to be a child, to be a child. In that moment, I remembered my father, my nephew, my cousins, my friend (whose fortunate sleep affinity led to this wonderful little thought train this beautiful day!), and even myself; I distinctly remembered, how each and every one I had ever seen in that moment, had actually been little children waking up to a new day, who would grow to their respective worldly ages in a matter of seconds.
Great bliss flew in from the countless windows all around.
Sigh...

The child knows all. Keept it alive and well.

I shall conclude with two gems courtesy Tagore:

"Pure joy is the children's joy. They have the power of using any and every trivial thing to create their world of interest, and the ugliest doll is made beautiful with their imagination and lives with their life. He who can retain this faculty of enjoyment after he has grown up, is indeed the true Idealist. For him things are not merely visible to the eye or audible to the ear, but they are also sensible to the heart, and their narrowness and imperfections are lost in the glad music which he himself supplies."

and...

"From the solemn gloom of the temple,
Children run out to sit in the dust.
God watches them play,
And forgets the priest."

बच्चों, खुश रहो।
:)