I stopped living the day I started taking myself seriously.

Here I was going. Smoooooooothly. Flowing with life. Sometimes nauseatingly happy and other times just brilliantly glowing. I mean, how could anyone be so happy? Nobody, who was breathing, had a right to be so sinfully carefree!! But I was all that and more. Happy, sinful, loving, unapologetic - a classic case of an adult (at least in age) who cannot be called an adult by any sane human.

Then the testing time arrived. The time was just right. I had to be pinched and punched to get the real measure, the size of the bag of happiness. Sheesh!! At first knock, happiness just whooshed out and I was left holding an empty bag. Luckily the bag was undamaged. All I had to do was to figure out how to fill the bag once again.

First thing first.

It doesn't pay to get serious. The entire roll of serious element had to be chucked out. But what to do - all my life I had learnt hoarding. It takes a hell of unlearning to get rid of this trait.

Now if I were to get serious about this business of not being serious, doesn't it become an oxymoron. Hmmm...think about it!! Till you figure this one out, I will go and play in the rains that seem to have finally arrived.