There was a time when people were so enthusiastic to bring their friends to this big playground. It was oh-so-fun. Therein lies many new playthings which none has seen nor heard. Freedom and joy were like sand in the sandbox. Peals of laughter were melody to the ear. The children and their friends always enjoy their play in this big playground. They led a carefree life.
Years have passed them by. They grew older and became senior members of the playground. Those who have gone before them tasked them to look after the young ones. What seem like a fun thing has now become laborious. To some of them, they took this responsibility in their stride and were happy about it. Whilst others were to preoccupied with this new role that they have forgotten the reason why they have come to this big playground. They eventually grew weary and dread coming to this big playground. Why don’t they stop coming altogether, you may ask? Well, it has been internalised that they have to meet the obligation. On one side of the coin, some lucky ones rediscovered their sole purpose again, however, there are also others who never seem to find their true joy anymore. Day in day out, their toil were sorrowful.They fought an inner war which no one ever know. How can a guppy ever swim against the opposing current? It may try and try, but one day, it will realise all efforts are futile.
It wasn’t long before a little one fell and got herself wounded. Everything has many facets. A highly favoured darling got the attention of many fellow playmates. The unfavoured receives less than minimal tender loving care. Another category is the senior playmate, when they fall, others expect them to know how to get up right away. There isn’t a leeway or tolerance for crying. To them, it is an expression of a weakling. “Haven’t experience thought you how to deal with it?” “You know you shouldn’t do this and that, now you see what happen.” That was just an understatement of you-deserve-it, spoken under their breath. More often than not, the wounded senior playmate cried in their own private little space, if there is any at all. They look around for those whom they call friend and found them at an arm’s length. How tragic! So much for the “I will stand by you” promises. Under this tremendous torment, unbearable when pushed to the limit, many have made their exit. It was immediately rebutted with disapproving gestures from the senior playmates that still remain in this big playground, serving as a deterrence for those who wish follow their footsteps.
Seasons come and go, everyone is increasingly comfortable with one another’s company. Somehow they no longer see the need for new playmates and the people in there remains stagnant. Since there is no incentive for fresh blood, the next thing they can do is to come out with something to keep themselves occupied. One suggested building a mega-sandcastle, another shrieked at others to form the longest human choo-choo train. The fight goes on. Those cries from the hurting are barely audible now. To make matters worse, they have been entrusted with new tasks to “help” them nullify their “minute” problem.
This big playground is indeed a double-edged sword. While it brings true joy and freedom, it is also capable of the worst hurts one can ever imagined. To each, they have attached a special meaning and memories to this big playground. No one has ever dare to speak outrightly about the things they felt, perhaps one or twice, you may see some unconventional folks trying to give their five-cent worth of counsel, otherwise it is buried deep in the sand. The big playground still functions today with much vigor from the outside, peeking on the inside, occasionally, you might discover a degenerating carcass or two. To each, this big playground paints a different picture. As for me, I strive to be a quiet playmate building my own sandcastle, preferably without the disturbance of others.
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