New beginnings
I had written this a long time back, when I witnessed something happen to someone I really care for – let’s call her Sara. I always thought that if I ever started a blog, I would put it up. So here goes.
My little sister rummages through her clothes desperate to find the right outfit for her first day of college. She tries on various shades of nail polish and wonders which shade will give her the good, but not goody-goody, slightly-sophisticated-moderately-intelligent look. Glasses or lenses? Which makes her look more interesting?
I watch her amused and realize that I went through the same cycle around two years ago. Was it going to be my yellow with green salwar that I spent a fortune on? Or the more docile black one I picked up at Hyderabad? Or did that have too many flowers?
I wonder why it made a difference really… the outfit I wore on the first day of college. I knew I picked the green one after drawing out a huge pro-con list. It seemed so important that day, making the right impression, finding the right group of friends. College is supposed to be the best time of your life. Half way through it, I can’t really say.
College was a lot of firsts for me. My first large scale victory, my first on-camera performance, my first shot at writing among many. I didn’t get to make that right impression, nor did I find myself having the amazing time I was told I would have. As far as friends go, I have friends. But it’s impetuous to assume that just because you hang out with so many people, they automatically become your life-long, forever and for always kind of friends. I did find a few people who do genuinely care, and I guess that should be enough to stay afloat. I find nothing amusing about coming up with fake couples who are in fake relationships and have fake fights, fake kids and deal with fake everyday situations. Especially when you are expected to go through with it every day. So, well at 19, I go ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’, just to fit in. As far as classes go, I have to stick around for the sake of attendance. Nothing on the curriculum remotely fascinates me, and if I do develop an interest in something, leave it to the competition around to squash it. Feeling stuck became a way of life.
But now I realize, atleast I was a given a choice. And so was she. We were given the choice to make what we wanted of ourselves, the choice to learn to face up to manipulation and competition, the choice to learn to deal with the real world.
I remember now why that first outfit was important to me. It was my chance at a new beginning. And I had the power to make that beginning whatever I wanted to.
She and I watch Sara, walk away from her family, away from her friends, away from all that is familiar. After years of toiling with her books and coming first every year, she was being packed off to a small village in the middle of nowhere to pursue her higher education.
Sara turns around and smiles but she is scared and she knows her future is bleak. She hadn’t given a thought to what she would wear on her first day. She was alone. She wasn’t given the choice.
My little sister rummages through her clothes desperate to find the right outfit for her first day of college. She tries on various shades of nail polish and wonders which shade will give her the good, but not goody-goody, slightly-sophisticated-moderately-intelligent look. Glasses or lenses? Which makes her look more interesting?
I watch her amused and realize that I went through the same cycle around two years ago. Was it going to be my yellow with green salwar that I spent a fortune on? Or the more docile black one I picked up at Hyderabad? Or did that have too many flowers?
I wonder why it made a difference really… the outfit I wore on the first day of college. I knew I picked the green one after drawing out a huge pro-con list. It seemed so important that day, making the right impression, finding the right group of friends. College is supposed to be the best time of your life. Half way through it, I can’t really say.
College was a lot of firsts for me. My first large scale victory, my first on-camera performance, my first shot at writing among many. I didn’t get to make that right impression, nor did I find myself having the amazing time I was told I would have. As far as friends go, I have friends. But it’s impetuous to assume that just because you hang out with so many people, they automatically become your life-long, forever and for always kind of friends. I did find a few people who do genuinely care, and I guess that should be enough to stay afloat. I find nothing amusing about coming up with fake couples who are in fake relationships and have fake fights, fake kids and deal with fake everyday situations. Especially when you are expected to go through with it every day. So, well at 19, I go ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’, just to fit in. As far as classes go, I have to stick around for the sake of attendance. Nothing on the curriculum remotely fascinates me, and if I do develop an interest in something, leave it to the competition around to squash it. Feeling stuck became a way of life.
But now I realize, atleast I was a given a choice. And so was she. We were given the choice to make what we wanted of ourselves, the choice to learn to face up to manipulation and competition, the choice to learn to deal with the real world.
I remember now why that first outfit was important to me. It was my chance at a new beginning. And I had the power to make that beginning whatever I wanted to.
She and I watch Sara, walk away from her family, away from her friends, away from all that is familiar. After years of toiling with her books and coming first every year, she was being packed off to a small village in the middle of nowhere to pursue her higher education.
Sara turns around and smiles but she is scared and she knows her future is bleak. She hadn’t given a thought to what she would wear on her first day. She was alone. She wasn’t given the choice.
Comments
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