Missing out.

I remember a time in my life, when I must have been about 7 or 8- I had got the idea in my head that I was the reincarnation of Lord Krishna. It's ironic that while now we have such defined divisions of whats male and female, back then those divisions didn't matter..after all God was God, regardless of gender.

I would walk around my grandparents with a flute in hand, wearing a salwar without its kameez, my one main aim to steal the fresh, white butter that my grandmother had just churned.

After I would find the butter, which my grandmother would always deviously hide behind the water pot, I would carefully smear some near my mouth - a blatant sign of my thievery, and then I would dance in front of my grandparents in celebration of my missions success.

These days, life just seems like a series of 'ups' and 'downs', which sometimes follow each other far too quickly for me to keep up.
The 'downs' tire me..the 'ups' - even more so.

When did happiness become something you had to work for? When did happiness become something you had to bend over backwards to earn? When did happiness start to cost you peace of mind?

And then I start to wonder if it had always been like this..if happiness and sadness were just mere states we told ourselves we were in, after a run in with lady luck. If the next down was inevitable because you were only this happy if something was being prepared to be taken away from you.

Then I think back to my grandparents. And how my days were made with their loving smiles at my innocent act of thievery.
And I think a part of me inwardly weeps for those days.