Turning 28

Was it yesterday that I beamed at my ecstatic pals that I turned 18? I remember standing in one of the corridors of Seshadripuram College huddled with my friends, celebrating a milestone that added an extra zing to the already raging estrogens. I was 18. Yes. 18. Always wanted to be since I was a five year old. According to the rule book I had attained majority, I could exercise my right to vote, and I could walk into the RTO and demand for a driver’s license for my bike. Fringe benefits apart I was a major who could be entrusted with responsibilities, my parents could find a suitable match and dispose me off and I could have inherited a fortune had anyone left me a handsome will.

I was a free spirit, threw caution to the wind, dint bother knowing how ‘responsibility’ was spelt and dint care about the days ahead. I was living in the minute and I liked it that way. I never felt 18 years OLD. I was growing younger in thoughts, words and ideas. A trait, according to my mom, that would sober down through the years to come. And then, I was 20. Then 21, 22……


Saw the world change. Girls my age blossomed into young women. Some got hitched early. Some, a little late. Many of them are mothers and some have two children. A prominent change that I noticed in most of them was that they had realised a dream that most 18 year olds would dream of. To be a successful adult eliminating every trace of the teenager they once were. When they speak business, they mean business and they’re damn serious about it. They can no more tolerate loose talks, girly gossips and the latest tech news. They would even show inhibitions to express their feelings about Daniel Radcliffe. He’s younger than them you see. It’s a taboo.
So this is where I don’t fit in. Unlike them, I am not an evolved specie and highly unpopular in their circle. But sorry to offend you ladies take a minute and see how lovely my life still is.


I am 28 and ………

I can openly talk about the hotness of Daniel Radcliffe’s nude backside. It’s hot. He is hot too. And is he young? Who cares? Now YOU say this in front of your husband.

I am not married. And not going to be for another two years. I don’t intend to say that all married women turn out to be evolved species like you. Just that some of you have a pre conceived notion that married women are supposed to be the ‘screw your brow for every tomfoolery’ types. I know ten girls from my school and college who’ve remained 18 even after tying the knot.

I am still experimenting. An interesting career opportunity always gets me excited and if I get bored, I find another one. And if you are muttering about my sabbaticals then let me give you a reality check. I pay for my parlour, landline and mobile telephone, my clothes, make up and also shoulder a few other responsibilities at home using the money that I wisely saved for winter.

I still gossip like a teenager. And it does not include topics such as X’s jewellery, Y’s sarees, Z’s husband’s car and certainly not about Saif Ali Khan and Kareena Kapoor.

I am loud. I haven’t sobered down one bit. I may have some feminine qualities but that’s that.

I am still 18. Honestly, I have never felt anything less or more than that. But just because I don’t manifest the maturity a 28 year old has doesn’t mean I am not sensible to sniff responsibilities. I know them better than you.

Just that, when I was 18, my heart had a conviction that kept every inhibition at bay and I simply chose to follow the same.

Hence I am still 18 and will be till I die :)

Outcast

Yes, I noticed that I sported undone eyebrows compared to the pretty ‘Bong’ ladies gathered at the Durga Pooja. I also noticed that what I wore to the said occasion was simple sans any bling and if I would have worn the same in a place like Delhi I would have successfully scandalize twenty dozen Delhi women, fashionistas or otherwise. And yes, I accept that compared to all the one thousand and fifty odd people who had gathered there, I had a bad hair day.

If these three reasons are enough for you to not accompany me anywhere in future, then let me tell you, I don’t fancy sporting a bushy eyebrow myself. Do you think I crave to look like Rubeus Hagrid? Unfortunately, it’s not like your beard that I can shave off even at the slightest sprout. And if I am forbid from visiting a beauty parlour for ten whole days of navratri due to religious sentiments, I don’t intend to break the rule either as it is easy to follow it than get an earful. You just have to wait.

Yes, what I wore was plain but let me add, I am not an exception. And also I don’t detest getting dressed in grand and shiny clothes. But honestly after having spent all morning cleaning the entire house and decorating it for the festivities, if I am given a ten minutes notice period to look my best, be my guest to press my festive clothes neat. Moreover, I have to choose clothes that can go with my slightly healthier body type. You see I can’t lose weight overnight. I wish I really could though.

If I’ve had a bad hair day, then yes I’ve had a bad hair day. I can’t help it.

But what you’ve failed to notice is that I am what I am. I can’t perhaps change in a million light years, because if I did, I wouldn’t be me. And if you still have a problem hanging out with me or accompanying me to any place whatsoever, do me a favour. Don’t ask me to go with you because when you come with me, I don’t care what you look like, what you’ve worn or what you smell like. I care for those few minutes that I spend with you which I would cherish as a memory for years to come.

I am not an outcast you see. I am just me.