Yes, I know. I'm back after 5 months. Following in the footsteps of most of the 20-something-ers of this generation, I've realised that I too am inconsistent. Another bullet point in the long list of vices. I've been meaning to write here, since that fateful morning. Oh! no no! I didn't win the lottery or anything. I woke up, and realised I am 20. What's the big deal, you may ask. I don't remember being older than 15, I would say. I'm here not to complain about how old I am, by means of the colour of my hair, but about how old I am, in the sense of how confused this sudden revelation has made me.
I don't know. Three words that seem to be my constant reply to all sorts of questions. On one hand, I still live with the knowledge, and faith, that I've trusted and loved ones to ask, no matter what the question is. But on the other hand, I've been newly introduced to the concept, that unless I place the final seal, the post will lie around uselessly, like one of those red taped files in the Indian government offices. I have now become a complete cent percent responsible for my choices. Even when you can feel the hand, of the influential people in your lives, on yours, you know, that in that one tiny moment, you are alone. In that one tiny moment, when I would have more than happily hidden under my blanket, while my parents made the choice, I'm alone. And I need to choose. I need to decide. I need to. I don't want to.
As a child who grew up around large groups of older kids, I always envied them for the different levels of independence they enjoyed. I ardently wished that I would suddenly grow up, so that my mother could no longer ask me to put down my R.K.Narayan that I hid within my textbooks, and do math instead. And now, when I've reached the point where I get to choose my career path, I want to go back to being a kid. I wish I hadn't grown up so fast. I wish I didn't have to leave the cozy comfort of home so fast.
People always talk about how you grow wiser as you grow older. You grow wiser as a result of experiences, interactions, and accumulation of knowledge both practical and theoretical. But have we ever stopped to think if this was necessarily a good phenomenon? Where is that joy that used to overwhelm me at the sight of a new pencilpouch, a new waterbottle, new textbooks, 2 pieces of broken magnets, a sticky note, marbles, balls that have cartoon figures on them, cartoons in itself, a trip to the movie theatre, the excitement of receiving a kid's packet while on the plane? Where did it go? When did a colouring book stop making me jump around with glee? Is that a result of me having become wiser? Then I don't like it. How do we become 'wiser' if we stop realising the joy of small things in life?
Questions. I have more questions. And then some more. I think I'll get used to being 20 by the time I'm thirty. Or maybe, just maybe, I don't want to get used to it. Maybe, I don't want to be performing rituals that are dictated by my biological age. I wonder. Will we ever reach the stage where we are allowed to be as old as we feel? I doubt it. The world would be a more fun place to live in, then, though.
I don't know. Three words that seem to be my constant reply to all sorts of questions. On one hand, I still live with the knowledge, and faith, that I've trusted and loved ones to ask, no matter what the question is. But on the other hand, I've been newly introduced to the concept, that unless I place the final seal, the post will lie around uselessly, like one of those red taped files in the Indian government offices. I have now become a complete cent percent responsible for my choices. Even when you can feel the hand, of the influential people in your lives, on yours, you know, that in that one tiny moment, you are alone. In that one tiny moment, when I would have more than happily hidden under my blanket, while my parents made the choice, I'm alone. And I need to choose. I need to decide. I need to. I don't want to.
As a child who grew up around large groups of older kids, I always envied them for the different levels of independence they enjoyed. I ardently wished that I would suddenly grow up, so that my mother could no longer ask me to put down my R.K.Narayan that I hid within my textbooks, and do math instead. And now, when I've reached the point where I get to choose my career path, I want to go back to being a kid. I wish I hadn't grown up so fast. I wish I didn't have to leave the cozy comfort of home so fast.
People always talk about how you grow wiser as you grow older. You grow wiser as a result of experiences, interactions, and accumulation of knowledge both practical and theoretical. But have we ever stopped to think if this was necessarily a good phenomenon? Where is that joy that used to overwhelm me at the sight of a new pencilpouch, a new waterbottle, new textbooks, 2 pieces of broken magnets, a sticky note, marbles, balls that have cartoon figures on them, cartoons in itself, a trip to the movie theatre, the excitement of receiving a kid's packet while on the plane? Where did it go? When did a colouring book stop making me jump around with glee? Is that a result of me having become wiser? Then I don't like it. How do we become 'wiser' if we stop realising the joy of small things in life?
Questions. I have more questions. And then some more. I think I'll get used to being 20 by the time I'm thirty. Or maybe, just maybe, I don't want to get used to it. Maybe, I don't want to be performing rituals that are dictated by my biological age. I wonder. Will we ever reach the stage where we are allowed to be as old as we feel? I doubt it. The world would be a more fun place to live in, then, though.
You just got dosed with the reality vaccination and like others, it stings; and unlike others, it stings mentally. True, we all love being kids, and continue outliving our 'biological childhood' but at the same time change is a part and parcel of life. We crib, kick, roll around, and try to bring the world down when we are uncomfortable with the change, yet, change is the only thing that remains consistent in this capricious life.
ReplyDeleteChildhood is a time of bliss and ignorance. One carries on inside a beautiful bubble, impervious to the world outside, with all choices being made by our omnipresent parents/guardians. Some of these we like and some we do not. Yet this state of bliss persists. Of course, until one fine moment/ experience or in your case, one fine morning, some event in our life, extraordinarily normal or normally extraordinary (in terms of it occurring in every person's life, generally)startles us, prickles our bubble, and wake us up from the land of joy. We feel exposed, like we are standing there in the busiest railway platform in the world, naked, for everyone to hurt. This is it. Our world changes. The realization hits us that what the world seemed to be is not how it actually is. It is hard, challenging and a rough ride is ensured. All we have at the end of the day, is ourselves.
There comes a time/phase in each individual's life where one wishes that one was a kid again. Everyone wants to shrug responsibility off, don't they (if you want examples of passing the buck, our present day politicians glorify that tenet). It is not something that is going to change you, unless you choose to continue to deny it. What we tend to forget in these circumstances is that our inner child never dies. Every individual has that toddler in him that still loves to run around, derive fun from doing naughty things and loves the little joys in life. I refuse to believe that you still do not get excited by the sight of a new pencil pouch or feel happy about going to the movie theatre. Right now, you are overwhelmed by the mammoth that has struck you. You are numb to one aspect while feeling a million things about another. Give it a little time. Let it heal. Most of all, do not block it out. You will realize that all those miniscule things that drove your happiness quotient still are there.
I should say that this feeling of having grown up hit me around the same age as it has hit you. However, I am still the kid I was. I still love getting new books as presents. I get super excited. I still love playing all the random games I used to play. I still love the miniature action figures I used to play with. I have the same excitement when I watch my favourite team battle it out on the pitch. I laugh just as hard at Tom and Jerry as I used to when I was five. My e-mail id, which I made recently, has a 7 in it because 7 is the most magically powerful number. You get my drift. Yes, I do have to make most of my choices. I do not have the comfort of the right one being made for me. At the same time, I have learned to make this process which seemed new, scary and monstrous at first, fun, stimulating and something which I can gain a world of knowledge from to base my future choices one. We stumble, fumble and mumble but the key to marching ahead is in picking oneself up, and moving on despite the difficulty of the task. Thus, we do have responsibilities that we need to carry upon our shoulders. We need to use these as the hands of the potter that mold us rather than let it be the hammer that will flatten us, and beat us to pulp. What we must not forget is that the kid within us still exists. Give him/ her enough time to. Do not let him/ her not enjoy life as it was just because there is an extra 9.8 m/s^2 of gravity acting upon you. Explore, battle, get battered, build yourself, work, play, enjoy and have fun. Also, your parents and loved ones are always there for you. They may not make the choice at the heat of the moment, but later or before, they are there to give you all their love and wealth of experience. They may not make the choice but good guidance gets one along a long way.
ReplyDeleteCompare our lives with that of a butterfly. After hatching from an egg, all the caterpillar does is eat, eat, and eat some more. Then comes the cocoon stage where it is blissfully sleeping protected from the vagaries of the world. One fine day, the cocoon breaks and a beautiful butterfly emerges. The happy world it lived in does not exist anymore. It seemingly has oddly shaped flaps attached to its back. The stark difference in the word it lived in and the world it has emerged to hits it. It cannot move around the plant it was born on and have food be constantly supplied to it. It needs to find its own food. It does sit there wondering what to do but, soon it takes flight and moves on.
I may have bored you with this long reply to your thread. I am not anyone to be dishing out worldly advice. I am just sharing with you what my heart feels, having experienced the same thing. Be cautious but at the same time, accept your situation for what is. Forget the fear that is plaguing you and run ahead because if fear ruled everything we did, we would still be cavemen. Have faith in yourself. To conclude, being a feminist, I will ask you to WOMAN UP, forget fear, spread your wings, and soar. Have a beautiful life ahead.
Hey!
DeleteSorry for the late reply, I actually am inconsistent with these things.
You do sound like someone living the age you want to be, and at this point I would say, not a greater joy in the world!
From having seen lots of people elder to me grow up, I've noticed that that isn't a luxury everyone can afford. I definitely hope I can, though (:
thanks for the comment. That's not a thank you for reading the post, but that's a thank you for writing something like that.
- Tara
This is the first time I'm referring to your blog.And I was taken with your words and the kind of language you used to describe events..
ReplyDeleteAwesome! :)
-Maria
Hey
DeleteThank you (:
-Tara