What kid, after returning from a Sunday picnic full of fun, proceeds to request for another one, and then describes in exact detail how the perfect picnic would be like? Arav, that’s who. “Mama”, he says, “we should go for a picnic again. But this time, it should be a proper picnic. There will be no dirt and no garbage…there will grass everywhere…it will be sunny with a few clouds…and no flies, only butterflies and bees.”
As I heard this and agreed, I was reminded of the many times I have been in a situation which I have refurbished in my head to a degree of perfection. Looking out from my balcony on a cool, rainy day, I would wish to be transplanted to a lawn, possibly of a resort, seated on a white chair made of cane under a large umbrella, looking out at a vista of rain drenching vast stretches of green, against the backdrop of hills, next to a table laden with tea and books. Or, watching yet another movies whose reality belied expectations, I would craft a parallel film in my head, where the script is cleared of the discordant notes, the casting is corrected, the pace is evened out, the production and costume design fit and the music enhances the narrative.
When I do, I am conscious that my companions are sensing that I have drifted away for a bit. If I am comfortable enough, I usually share these thoughts and invite the usual responses, ranging from an exclamation at my idealism to a knowing smile. Considering I have known many friends for a long time now, the latter is more common now.
I often wonder how other people don’t do the same. Isn’t it natural, when confronted by the incompleteness of reality, to pick up a brush and fill in the blanks, making it “picture-perfect”, so to speak? Or does a healthy chunk of inherent realism prevent most people from doing so, knowing that their imagination will always produce something that will inevitably lead to disappointment? If that’s the case, how do I survive? I don’t live in a perpetual state of sulk (as I know many people do), comparing the as-is with the as-it-could-be and brooding over the gaps. In fact, people often comment on my ability to just accept things as they are and move on, while colleagues/ friends/ family take their time. I draw an equal amount of response on the lines of “yes that’s how things should be, but it doesn’t always happen that way”.
I would like to stay that I display an healthy proportion of idealism and realism, but I suspect that’s yet another of my survival techniques of staying in the middle of the road and avoiding the dangers of the extremes. To be truly, truly creative and move the world forward, one needs to see an imagined perfection and seek it, artistic depression and trauma be damned. And to be truly, truly adjusted, one needs to accept daily realities and maybe tweak them a little bit. The middle of the road is liable to keep you skipping as you avoid large vehicles that threaten to main, and possibly destroy.
As he continues to read and travel and fuel his already sharp imagination, I wonder which part of the road Arav will finally take. And as I wonder, I try and subdue the worry I feel, as my instincts for protection take over and I imagine, ironically enough, a vision of both the pain and pleasure that greets