The metro journey .....

What is this kid doing ? why isnt anybody seeing him ? why is nobody bothered ?
These were the questions that I asked myself when I saw this kid in the metro train from Dwarka to Indraprastha .
He entered with his father holding his one hand .While his father tried to make a way hastily and get himself a seat ,he seemed to be at eternal peace with himself .He didnt bother about the seat all he cared about was to get a place where there is enough space for him to swing his arms and legs and where he would be able to do his little aerobic stunts .Fortunately for me, the place he thought best for him was right in front of me ,though I was out of his circle of action .
As the train started ,he began to get into his own ,oblivious of everbody around him ,something which attracted me .He enacted the sound that the train makes when it starts to accelrate ,by swirling his arms as if riding a bike and as I watched him doing this I couldnt help but simper and I knew I am in for a treat .
As the next station came,I hoped he doesnt get down and I was not hoping against hope .Infact he didnt even move ,but did watch with curiosity the doors getting closed in due time by themselves .
He saw me watching him and I immediately avoided his glance and turned my head 180 degrees .When I turned back (in less than a minute ofcourse) I saw him punching in the air ,he was furious as if determined to beat the air around him .He was involved in this incongruous act of his with a panache and saw nothing but the air in front of him .As I sat watching him ,I wondered when I last felt so insouciant .
The metro doors opened again ,he stopped his punching and started a countdown from 10 looking at the doors and as he reached zero ,the doors closed and I heard myself saying a yes in his accomplishment .His father had managed a seat by now and had already pestered him a no. of times to sit with him ,but who had the time to sit and relax ? Occassionaly he would go to his father ,take rest for not more than 15 secs and comeback with his antics .
As his acts grew repetitive ,I went into retrospection and wondered why didnt anybody pay heed to him ,for ,I am sure if I would have been doing all this ,not even a single person would like to have missed the opportunity of seeing a well dressed maniac. Does being an adult makes such a difference ?Is it necessary to lose the child in you as you attain adulthood ? Or is it a crime to break free and be yourself even for half an hour ? Why does the society becomes ignorant with a child and so scrutinizing with an adult ?
As I muddled with these questions ,I raised my head and saw the train was nearly vacant ,but the kid was still there ,this time hanging on the bar above his head and fighting the air with his kicks .
The doors opened again ,and it was my turn to get down ,I looked at the kid ,made a small gesture of a bye and got down .As I glanced for the last time ,I could see him counting 9,8,.... and I hoped his soliloquy never ends .