Of climbing trees and forgetting Time.

This is a senseless post.Yesterday, I climbed trees after a long time. The last time I climbed one was when I was twelve. I realised I am still good at it.Sitting on one of the topmost branches, comfortably placed, I knew how happy I was. For a moment, Time stood still. All my twenty three years of joy, fear and sadness just disappeared. It was an amazing feeling. My awkward self felt graceful. For once, I did not have to speak. I could just sit and watch the blue skies, or look down upon the green fields. Dust on my body, dust on my feet- I’d never felt cleaner. I did not have to pretend to like books or literature or dance or music. My chaotic world seemed full of sense. My world was made of real things: leaves, fruits, sky, earth. I could touch and feel everything. I did not have to imagine anything. It was not a structured game, it had no rules. There were no winners. There was no praise either. Nobody praises you for climbing a tree well. That was precisely what I wanted. If I fell to the ground, I simply climbed again. My rewards were my own: clear skies above and a canopy of leaves. All my awkwardness, all my untimely smiles and all my unwarranted sadness fell into beautiful harmony.