So I turn twenty. Is it a big deal? Is it not? I don’t know. I don’t
feel twenty. But then, I probably have no clue how twenty feels, so maybe that
statement is redundant.There are times I feel ten (already
been there, so this I know). And there are days I feel forty (this
is a guess; I hope the real one is less scary than I think it to be).
I talk to kids and find out I have no clue about the cartoons they watch
on TV, and feel old. Then I listen to people and wish I could go back to being
four so that I could give them a hug and say everything will be fine.
Memories are funny things. One huge, shimmering pot of good and bad,
bitter and sweet. Black and white and every shade in between.
I have learnt to keep my plans open-ended. And accepted that a lot
of them aren’t gonna work out, many times just for the heck of it. And it will
still be fine. More importantly, I will still be fine. I’ll
plan again.
I have seen how quickly masks fall from faces. And found out how badly
it hurts to be betrayed (that’s less than when you end
up betraying, whether intentionally or otherwise. we’ve all been there). But also that a
lot of things heal with time. Whether they do or do not often depend on us,
too. There is always a choice. Always.
I have had fun when it was least expected. And realised true friends are
not just people who stick together, but who dream together, and snigger
together, and sing together, and have tiffs and make up, thousand times over,
thousand miles apart. People who are there to welcome you back, no matter how
far you go.
I have heard stories that defy logic. And believed them all. Everyone
has a story. Many get lost in the cacophony of the world, because they do not
know this. But there are some who do know, and treasure the
knowledge, even if they don’t show it. If you sit down and let them talk, they
might just surprise you, for a few among them don’t just come with stories,
they are whole novels (and I personally know two who are
regular epics, God bless them).
I have laughed over silly things. And cried over sillier ones. But both
felt better when shared. Like the old time school tiffin. Emotions are way more
shared among people than the barriers of age, race, gender or location will let
us believe. Crossing those barriers can be scary, yet liberating (like
going down a highway on a bike. or being in love. take your pick).
I have had my faith tested. And lost some, and gained some. The best way
to regain it is to talk to someone who lost more than you (there
is invariable someone around who fits the bill). Rarely, if ever, is it true that
faith moves mountains. But it probably does save more souls than all the
confession boxes in the world.
I have learnt how tough it is to grow up. Growing old will be tougher.
I’ll go into the new year (and decade, sigh) a bit sadder, a bit
wiser, still reluctantly optimistic, still incorrigibly
romantic and still unfailingly inquisitive.
But these I have been since as far back I can remember.
Looks like growing up will have to wait another year.
Looks like growing up will have to wait another year.
