Growing up...

As kids, we all had a lot of questions. My mom tells me, I would not go to sleep without asking "What are we going to do tomorrow?" I remember three of my uncles had taken me for a hike to Sinhagad (an old fort in the viscinity of Pune-India). They were all bachelors then. On our ride back, in an ovecrowded PMT bus, I asked in a pretty loud voice after reading an advertisement inside the bus, "What is the meaning of abortion?" I just remember the embarrased look on their faces.
And as we grew up, we started finding answers. Until pretty recently, I thought growing up was finding answers to every question there is. And then, a slew of questions began accumulating for which I had no answers. I tried real hard to find logic based on whatever I knew. I asked around, to people who I thought knew better. You know, the kinds that have had dope and all.. and seen a different light and all that stuff. They had no clue either. Neither the elders nor the wise.
It has finally occured to me, after endless struggles with myslef, that growing up is not finding all the answers. It is knowing that there are questions that have no answer. And it is being comfortable with this fact. I am still strugglinig to come to terms with this. But that is what it is. Until I find something else of course.