Who killed the dreamer inside me?

Lucky is my hero. my toddler cousin, two and half years old. but observing him always makes me feel motivated. he is one of the most lively buddy i have ever seen on the earth. what seduces me is his drive, his passion, his energy towards life, to make the best out of every moment. he teaches me about the power of simplicity. he always lives on the edge -- well doesn't every kid? -- daredevil, dreaming, howling, jumping, curious.

makes me look fall down on my chair and look back toward the life i have lived so far. to compare what was i and what i have become.
then i found that i too was like lucky, somewhere. makes me believe that we all have changed. we are not at all the way we were.
as a kid i was dreamer. i believed everything was possible for me. i wanted to be a scientist (my brother wanted to be a chef, wow, my friends wanted to be Pilates, actor, superman). but then i started growing. my parents and society appealed me not to be kiddish (don't we all have a strong desire to always remain kid?) when i stubbornly stood my ground for the things i wanted. then i too started falling into the process of self-crimination, and self-victimization. i too believed that life doesn’t work that way. mature and responsible people don't dream and stick to them (or they will be called selfish), they get practical. i m following the same path of real life practicality: I’ll get a real job, earn money, collect sympathy and wow-wow of the society, get married, screw my wife, screw those who screwed me, breed kids, then screw them by not letting them follow their dreams and controlling their lives (because my parents did the same), get old and curse my fate, make excuse and boast (to shun my bloody heart and feel special), then die all unsatisfied full of regret, always hating and never forgiving others or myself.

I know lucky wont be the same after ten years from now on. he will be like me too: loser, spent, guilty -- screwed.
he will see other Lucky and wish may he be like that kid. maybe he'll blog too -- with more anger and hatred.

The question is who gives me the right to snatch away a dreamer from the world by allowing me to listen to other --not my heart-- and joining the crowd? who gives the right to kill my dreams? who gives me the right to take away the person form the world who could have made the world a far better place to be; the person who could have been the next Einstein, Edison, Leonardo, Shakespeare, Gandhi, Bill Gates, or Mark Zuckenberg? No one

I take stand here and call you out. turn off your, put down the novel you are reading, take your pants on and get off the bed - you too ma'm, please, pause the bowler you are facing and put down your bat, ask the teacher to be quit of your maths lecture. Hold yourself. let's we all come together and protect these kids and their dreams -- I know you too have a killed Lucky buried inside you -- Let No more Lucky die. Take a stand. Ask your father to let your brother go to guitar classes, gift your son a bat and promote him to play cricket(he loves it, no?), get your daughter into drama classes, ask for the story or poetry your nephew has written (he writes fantastic, no?), Encourage your neighborhood kid to put his painting in the next competition.

Children are the most wonderful thing in the world. they makes this world more bearable for us. they make us smile, laugh, and happy. they give us the hope that life is still beautiful and can be favorable.

Let that child not fall into self-betrayal. protect his dreams. he' ll thank you forever in his life -- and his kids too.