Over the hill, I am not. But am now definitely and surely on the wrong side of 25. It’s a bit of landmark-the 25 number when you are 10, when you are 16. You want to own the world by this magical number.And the number came and went giving me what could be termed as the year I learnt the most.
The big FMCG which cuts my paycheck every month had while cascading its vision for the next year a speech by this man. The essence of what he said was either we can let what is outside influence every decision we take or we do what we want to do regardless. More importantly he asked when was the last time you learnt something new, because that was the last time you grew as a person.
Yes there are days when the work doesnt seem to end, there are days when the all I do for 8-10 hours is to look at MS Outlook, there are days when I feel how whatI do will make any difference to anyone anywhere. And there are days when some drops an appreciation mail which sort of floats above all the mails asking for root cause analysis and reasons for delivery delays.
There are days when I feel I have drifted away from all of my friends, that I have become a nag to the boy I love. There are days I feel old and positively lonely. God knows there have been days this year when I would see my inbox flooded with marriage invites and go on a rant which would swing from marriage-is-for-chumps to oh-god-i-will-become-a-cat-lady. And then my best friend S would ping me on GTalk with “did you see see that photo on FB?” or M would ask me what I thought about an ideal gift and we would again become two 20 year olds gossiping in the confines of a hostel room, when life was around what would be for breakfast next morning, whose hitching with whom and occasionally deadline-looming assignments.
There are days when I remember the sighing and the stolen glances that mark any new relationship, to be slowly replaced by hmmms and haaaws on phone calls, each waiting for the other to tell something they dont know already. Of coffee filled walks into breaking dawn replaced by frank admittance to feeling really sleepy in the middle of a conversation. But then with time comes an acceptance with which comes the ability to break free of masks you wear for others. Of knowing you will not be judged and being who you truly are. Naked in your ambitions, lies and deceits. The security of knowing you will still be loved even if you are sprouting a girl-stache, in pyjamas and bitching about your publicly proclaimed soul-sistah.
With your parents its a funny role reversal. After years of being told what is good for you, now I tell them what is good for them. I operate the new machines with my fingertips while they fumble and feel embarrassed. When you are the bird who flew the nest in the years that would shape up your personality, you return home as a stranger. Not the child they let go of. Your values are different, your tastes are different, hell-even your love feels a little different. But they are your parents and the curse of the blood is such-they just cant stop loving you whatever you have morphed into.
25 was a good year. I saw new places, I met a whole lot of new people. Leant some cooler politics and some old world morals. I bought more clothes and shoes than I would ever wear. I let go of color cordination and learnt about “match-much”. I learnt there are brands like BV and LV, and even walked into some showrooms peddling them .I dived under water with an oxygen tank and hung onto a parachute for dear life. I saw a 3D movie. I joined a gym for some time. I ate without being too apologetic about the where the weight needle was heading for. I actually bought skinny jeans and carry myself in them.I read quite a bit. I saw a whole lot of movies. I bought myself a music player and a car.
So one can safely say 25 was just as I expected it to be.