Editorial»
Growing up angst
JAN 09 - I am in the last month of my teens and wondering whether I will be able to make the transition gracefully. You see I have not quite been able to let go of my “I wanna be Britney” obsession. Being shortsighted and not wanting to wear spectacles, I have prayed for a mutant spider to bite me and correct my myopia, in the manner of how it happens to Toby Maguire in the movie “Spiderman”. Maybe, it is a good idea to buy myself a pair of glasses on my twentieth birthday.
At the end of my first semester at a new college, with examinations and evaluations on the way, I take some time out to assess my personal growth and it amazes me to find that I still retain the pettiness that comes with immaturity. Like for instance, this one incident affected me so much that I have to write about it for the sake of catharsis. Someone at college had scratched out my name from an article I had written. The article was pasted on the bulletin board. It made me think of who could have done it and one by one I started to reel off the names of the people, in my mind, who were possible perpetrators. It instantly reminded me of the story “Shatru” by B P Koirala and I couldn’t help laughing. I have lived long enough to know that it is completely up to me to let unwarranted negativity, deflected towards me, bring me down or to take it in my stride. In this particular case, I let it be a lesson learnt, a shining feather on my newly acquired cap of adult apathetic wisdom.
“I’m not a girl, not yet a woman”, this crooning of Britney, through the speakers of my stereo, jars me from my state of apathy and heightens my sense of being “caught in the middle”. This is evident even in my write-up where I mention Toby and B P in the same vein. Also, nowadays, when I find myself included in adult conversations, I no longer need to pretend not to be listening. Of course, my opinions are still disregarded, since they are characteristically radical or radically characteristic of my age.
I remember my pre-teenage years when I would hold a ladybird in my hand and believe that its yellow droppings would bring me luck and/or fulfillment of my wishes. This belief has persisted through all these years and only recently I held the exquisite beetle and released my fist to let it fly, after making a wish for freedom and independence. I know I shall be able to realise my duty to others only after I assume responsibility for myself.
But still there is anxiety about distancing myself from the luxuries of being spoon-fed. There is a certain charm in being shortsighted or a dependent teenager; to not seeing things too clearly and only faintly making out a blurred horizon.Posted on: 2004-01-09 03:08
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