10 years and counting
Category: Memory lane, Ramblings, Walk of life
We moved to India mid 1996. My siblings and I left the only thing we’ve ever known in our lives to start anew.
Four days after landing onto Indian soil, we got enrolled in school. I was in 8th grade, on new land and in an unfamiliar place. I was at school where most people knew each other from the time they were in Kindergarten. My classmates would stare at me uncomprehendingly whenever I spoke. The accent was hard to follow and the Hindi/Urdu or whatever it was I spoke back then was pitiful. Imagine someone speaking your native language in an entirely different accent.
Those three years in high school were extremely difficult and uncomfortable for me. Do you know how it is to feel like you don’t belong? I was a loser and a class certified nerd; the whole high school drama, status-quo. I hated not being able to relate with my classmates, often missing my old friends who knew me inside and out and didn’t mind the weirdness that was me. I missed the familiar carefree neighborhoods and hated being jailed up here. I made friends, yes but the friendships were short lived. I won’t deny that we had fun though - those were probably the best days of that time. However, towards the end of my last year there, I chose not to be included into “the group” and that decision of mine cost me the quality of friendship I had. We were still friends, but not as close. And somewhere along the way, I made a new friend - one who may have not been well liked but understood me, somehow. I lost contact with her a few years after graduation.
Then came Intermediate. Most but not all Indian schools have grades upto 10 and then graduation, unlike graduation at the 12 grade level. After 10th grade, there were two years of an “Intermediate” course where you decide between pursuing an “Engineering” field or one related to Science. At 14/15 years of age, it’s not an easy decision to make and as a result some of us (but not all) simply go along with whatever the parents say. It was during those two years that I met some of my closest friends to date. I learnt about true friendship and just how deep those roots can run. I even got better grades. But whenever there is a beginning there must be an end; we had to part ways because our choice in professions and universities did not coincide.
Shhh…
Category: Doodling, Memory lane, Secrets
Reading is a hobby of mine that people in real life are surprised to discover, if at all they do. It’s one of those hobbies that I pursue in secrecy, mostly because my dad frowns upon reading books other than those meant for studies. A waste of time, he says, before he throws them away.
Throughout childhood, my sisters and I have read in secrecy. Comics, novels, books, stories… anything would be smuggled in and chucked under pillows, in closets, under mattresses, and we’d even go as far as resorting to reading in the bathrooms, at times.
It turned into a habit: to read secretly. I usually enjoy most genres, favoring classics and mysteries over the rest. Every once in a while I immerse myself in a romance and mind you not the Mills and Boons kind, but the ones that make you smile, cry and try in vain to muffle your laughter as you journey through the book - even when it’s all over.
I discovered a book store nearby and have loved it since. I originally went there to buy a Jane Austen collection but they didn’t have the publishers I was looking for. Even though I’ve read the books, I don’t own them. I’ve long ago learnt that owning and reading a book are two different things. And some books you simply want to own; to have, reread, and keep for a very long time. For someone who reads in secrecy, it’s a feat to accomplish. But I ordered them anyway and spent the next few hours thumbing through other classics.
I used to wonder why people would want to buy books. Once you’re done reading them it’s over, isn’t it? Some five years ago, it seemed like a waste of an investment. It was only when I rediscovered an old favorite that made me want a copy for myself, Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree. I loved her books during grade school and still find it funny how I used to think her name was Gnid Blyton by the way the E was lettered.
While it comes to no surprise that I favor romances, since I’d like to think I am a romantic (albeit a slightly more realistic one than some), it does seem to evoke surprised responses when people find me nose deep in a book that’s not related to my curriculum.
My response? “Shhh…”
Then, and now.
Category: Memory lane
My cousins decided to stay the night after a trip to a water resort. The same ones that killed me at the basketball game. While looking for another board game to play, I found my old board game Mall Madness that I begged my dad to buy for me some 10 or 11 years back. The kids looked interested, so my sister and I set it up for them.
I remember how fond I was of this game back then. After every game we played, I’d count everything - all the pieces, the money, the players, the cards to make sure everything was in place and not missing. Now looking back, I find it oddly funny the things I did to preserve it longer.
Or the genius substitutes that we found were necessary.
But it was a game you could play only once like The Game of Life.
As the rush comes
Category: Memory lane, Walk of life
My cousin and his family came over to visit today. My brother made some really good fudge brownies. I love brownies! It was really nice though, they’ve been here three months but I didn’t get a chance to talk to them as much as I would’ve liked. I felt extra guilty not going over to hang out. They have the two most adorablest little kids!
“.. travelling somewhere, could be anywhere”
We got into talking about childhood and life back then. I terribly miss that. It was just sooo good. Now everything seems so messed up. It’s not even funny. Things could’ve been so different. Back then, life was great. Even when I went to visit last time, it was awesome. I’d do anything to go back there, to live that life.. if only I could.
“.. there’s a coldness in the air, but I don’t care..”
And I don’t know, why does it seem like everything’s harder now? Why does it take more effort? Why the insignificance? Why can’t it all just go away? More simpler, less complex. A clean slate?
“.. we drift deeper into the sound”
It’s funny. Because just going back is reason enough to smile. It lightens the mood, quickens the heart. A warm bubble bursting inside and spilling effortlessly. But it’s transient. In the end the glass is still half empty. And no matter how thirsty you are, you find yourself left with nothing inside. A transparent feeling of thought that no action nor words can fix.
“.. and life goes on”