in the middle of life

there's a big story in taarey zameen par. the little boy, lost in a world of unseeing adults, found by one who knows the beauty and value of seeing the world differently. parents forcing their kids to perform, to learn to survive (whatever that means), and forget to live. the big story you may like you may find naive. but it's the little stories that stay with me. everytime our world/life/planet has changed for the better or has felt truly enriched it's because of those that look at this whole thing in their own way, crazily, straight from the within. little ishaan doesn't want to tie his shoe lace, button his shirt but he must he must. but what if making him do such things will take other far more precious abilities away from him? if little inja wants to say 4 nineza thirtyseven every time should i slap her/gnash teeth/scream or try to see how she sees numbers? i mean how does one see numbers, or letters, or success or love? how do you see them? how do i? in the small stories i found the story of all us grown ups. so lost. so unseeing. so chasing things that are not really dreams.
as i read little prince to inja every night, it's the same thing: a universe of grown up ways and ideas that make you groan. ah the baobabs that strangulate our planet.
alice in wonderland. once more, save us from this confounded world of the post 6 year old.
6 fourza 48. that's me. go away all of you, lemme look at my planet my way.