These days, I am busy participating in a day long marathon that takes place in another dimension. A dimension where I find myself comfortably enjoying the innocence of my childhood. Sometimes I feel nostalgic reminiscing the time when I told countless lies to my parents just for the sake of preventing them from knowing that with the help of few of my friends, I had been making an appearance in another planet. Unknown to them is the fact that these friends were imaginary and existed only deep within the realms of my imagination. Hardly could my parents come into contact with my peers for they belonged to the group who despised my friends easily and did everything necessary to uproot the cumulative effect in our conscience.
The marathon has been taking place since the early days of my childhood when I would rush back from the school to find myself a seat on the sofa, switch on the TV and get hooked on the show that I had been following recently. Even on breaks, there were no chances that I could fall prey to the tranquil request of my parents to switch to the channel of their choice. Breaks were paths for me to get informed on the battles taking place elsewhere in the universe. These were the best days of my life. There is no possible way to imagine just how open my mind was to perceive everything that appeared on the screen and how just easily the mind was deceived to imply the scenarios presented into my reality. For me, these channels invented thousand ways to go over an annoying but crucial decision to come up with a concrete one just like Edison was compelled to find a way to light the incandescent bulb. By now, you must have realized the enduring marathon which persistently haunts the darkness within us and teleports the menace to another dimension.
Indeed, cartoons have implanted deep roots in my subconscious that even in my dream, I cherish at the unlikable scenarios of being rescued by Green Lantern’s ring and later get ended up dining with the Justice League members at their Watchtower. At that particular instant, I cannot help but wish to possess the eyes of Uchiha Itachi and use Mangekyo Sharinghan to last the meeting with my childhood hero Bruce Wayne forever. After all, what cartoon maniac does not want his favorite characters to take him on their mission? What maniac would not be reluctant to request Vindel Savage to send him back to the time when he was narrowly beaten by The Flinstones’s team in Scooby’s Laff-a-lympics.
This instant, as I watch Justice League with no interruption (finishing as many as one season in just two days) , I form an image of myself being a civilian in Gotham City. There I create situation where Ace has penetrated the minds of Gothams luring them into a deceived reality. Luckily, with the transmitter that Batman had given me on our previous meeting, it allows me to relay the danger engulfing the city to the watchtower. In a matter of seconds, there is no doubt that Flash would appear only to be followed later by the invincible Justice League. The next day, I can picture myself revered in the front page of The Daily Planet with the title ‘Batman and Manasbi: The Heroic Connection That Saved the World!’
I will not be bothered to allow myself into the chances of letting away enjoying the glorious encounters with my cartoon characters. The adrenaline rush that I had experienced every time the Mystery Machine reached the climax of their mystery while on their sojourn in Transylvania or the tears that I had shed when Samurai Jack was exiled into another dimension created by the villain Aku leaving him homeless would not be justified if I were to live by the agony of not assisting them in whatever way possible. All these actions have shaped into what I am today. My only wish is to watch the next generations enjoy with the same passion as I had back in my childhood days and make them spin stories or come up with silly plots that Ash Ketchum would run into after Team Rocket successfully kidnapped Pikachu.
However, the wish is likely to come into shape. My brothers and sisters do not seem to enjoy the kind of cartoons I had enjoyed because the contemporary ones do not have intriguing storylines and are instead just based on realistic situations that corrupt their passion for cartoons. It tortures my inner conscience when I am falsely led to undermine the hindrances to my brothers’ love for calling out their heroes when in danger and the paucity of acquiring significant moral lessons that can be implemented in their lives.
May the cartoon channels realize this message and my convictions find their worthiness in this dimension!
LONG HAIL 90s CARTOONS!!