Oblivion is bliss
I dislike kids. And even more than dislike, I’m scared of
them. However, when my mother told me she was taking the kids she teaches, six
years olds, to the zoo, I wanted to go. I’ve wanted to go there for years and
finally the golden ticket was in my hands. I wanted to go, even if it meant I
had to spend time with some kids.
Sitting in their classroom, everything was okay. Of course
this was the calm before the storm, because a few minutes later two boys came
to me and told me another boy was crying. And there he was, crying away. The
kids kept waiting for me to do something, and all I could do was quickly walk
away to my mother. This was a clear indication that the day was about the get
worse.
During the bus ride to the zoo, I couldn’t help smiling at
the innocent remarks of the kids. They were so excited to see the outside world.
What was even nicer was how, even though they had just had breakfast, their
main concern since getting on to the bus was eating. They happily opened lunch
boxes and packets of biscuits and soon their tiny hands were covered in crumbs.
Getting to the zoo, it was so difficult to keep them from
shouting, walking about and running away. Throughout the walk around the zoo
and the sea lion and elephant shows, the kids kept eating. They had been given
clipboards to take down anything they found interesting. Some kids wrote down a
few names, others took down most of the names of the animals they saw, while a
few actually drew some animals. One little boy kept holding his clipboard away
from him, sketching the way artists do. During the elephant show he suddenly
shouted, holding up his clipboard, “Look at my picture, elephant!” While
everyone around him laughed, he wasn’t embarrassed. For him, it was a
completely normal thing to do. To show an elephant his drawing.
Then came my moment of fame, when three kids told me to draw
elephants for them. I told the first child that I can’t draw. And the elephant
I drew was something I’m not proud of. However, after drawing the elephants, a
girl came up to me and said, “You were lying when you said you can’t draw.”
That, I think, was one of the most honest compliments I’ve ever received.
Something that amused me the most was how the kids were so
excited to see the iguanas who were roaming about. Forget the Komodo Dragon and
crocodiles, they wanted to see the iguanas!
Of course, the zoo was in a dismal state and yet, the kids
were still so excited to run around. I remember seeing a black panther and many
other animals during my visits as a kid. Now, the lions, bears, tigers are
simply a pathetic sight. And yet, these kids, they didn’t see how underfed the
animals were. Even when a teacher told them the animals were unhappy because
they didn’t have food, the kids didn’t understand that it is a serious
situation. For them, the empty cages were just empty cages. It didn’t mean the
animals were dead. Maybe they thought the animals were on vacation.
Nearing the end of the trip, the kids were standing near the
entrance/exit when there was a purple-pink flower rain. The kids danced around,
trying to catch the flowers. It was a moment of innocence. Of happiness.
While the kids learnt a lot about animals that day, I learnt
a lot about life. Being with kids for that one day, I felt younger, lighter.
Life’s worries and barriers didn’t matter. For those few hours, running behind
these kids, life was simple. It was amazing.
When people say they love and miss their childhood the most,
what they actually love and miss is the oblivion that comes with childhood.
These kids didn’t know about death, injustice, neglect. They didn’t know the
zoo was trapping these animals. For them, the animals were happy. The kids were
happy. And their happiness made me happy.
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