In the Wonderland

On a summer afternoon, my sister and I were hanging out on a rooftop café. I made houses and boats of tissue paper.
I was tired and bored and the sun over my head gleam pleasantly. I peeped into my sister’s phone, she was switching between Facebook and WhatsApp, her third hour of doing so.
How boring!
As I was drifting into a dream like state, I saw a rabbit, sitting few tables apart, typing feverously on a typewriter.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I wanted to make sure that I am not going crazy.
And at the same second, rabbit looked up at me, his fingers coming up for air.
He put all his belongings in his bag and ran towards the exit. I followed him out, leaving my sister, so busy with her phone that she didn’t even realise.
Once outside the café, I saw the rabbit opening the door to lift and jumping in the hollow space. I repeated the action, thinking about my mother, that she will be upset for skipping dinner, for covering my clothes with grease and dirt, for getting into trouble.
I felt as though time and gravity had stopped, or that the tunnel is too long and my speed had lost its velocity.
I saw the walls around. There were innumerable things. I caught glimpse of books that haven’t been read in a long time. The map unused, places unvisited. I saw boardgames that aren’t played any longer. Old camera rolls.
Ah! 64 frames per roll; all used wisely, none on clicking food that was ate. Food was, then, only eaten.
I saw puzzles that remained unsolved.
Old dial phone, which you couldn’t take around, it grounded you to certain place.
A walkman. An ink pot.
All that I adore, all that I don’t use anymore, all that is forgotten.
The bumpy ride ends with my falling on the ground.
“Ouch, my bum!” I whisper.
“You fine, child?” A divine sounding voice asked me. I looked from where the sound came.
It was the rabbit, he was lying under a tree, smoking a pipe. Wait until I tell this to my sister; she will flip.
“Where am I?” I inquired.
“In the Wonderland. Where you always wanted to be. House made of bricks. The only thing that is warm are wishes. Phones with cord. Letters still written. Games played outdoor. All that you miss.” The rabbit replied.
“A land of my dreams. A land I miss.” I cried of joy.
“But it has its vices. Women aren’t allowed to read and your only job will be child rearing. There is no internet at use. Individualism doesn’t prevail. You can never met someone who changes state and letters get lost.” He completed in a breath.
“Oh. That I never thought of. Where exists virtue, there has to be vice. I understand but what do I do? How to survive? In that crazy world, how do I live?” I questioned in a tone of dejection.
” You live and imbibe only virtue. There is nothing wrong to do what happens around you. It is fine. So what everyone isn’t looking out for what you are? Live like them, so you know whether your want is for real. Live in the so called crazy world, do the crazy things, maybe that is the path to salvation!” His voice seemed divine, so much so that I could see a halo over his head.
“Bunny, you make so much sense to me. Thankyou for this knowledge. I have learnt to live in a new way. Now, tell me how I go back to my world? To my house?” I said to him.
“Your favourite way.”
And with that he passed me the typewriter; and I begin to write this story.

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