I was so busy growing up that I didn’t realize how far I have come from the raw original me. I used to notice everything, the littlest details that nobody else never really did. I used to feel every single thing said to me, even the stupidest shit that didn’t require my attention; I cared about it. I used to remember everything, tiniest micro things ever done to me or spoken to me. I used to cry a lot about everything that was not in my control. Whenever I couldn’t defend myself, I used to burst it all out in the form of tears. I used to be a really introverted reserve kid who would always get used like a tissue paper – Oh, and thrown into a dustbin. I don’t know when the tables turned. I don’t notice, feel, remember or cry anymore. It’s for the good, I suppose. But I grew up. I turned into an extrovert. I turned into a sarcasm queen. I turned into an opposite of me. Times change, they say, so did I.
I was supposed to knead flour for Sehri so I went into the kitchen half an hour back. I couldn’t find the utensil we have in which we knead flour usually. Tired from the unending search, I went up to Ammi to ask her about it. She said it was not available at the moment, and asked me to take out another one from a cupboard; a utensil we stopped using years ago. I took it out and washed it, running my fingers on its rim as it brought back many long forgotten memories of my childhood. I took out the required amount of flour and started kneading it. While I was busy doing that, I realized how big it used to seem when I was little. It is still the same size but I have grown up. I was so naive to think that kneading flour is an easy thing, whenever my four year old self saw Ammi doing that. I used to think it was really deep, but it turned out to be shallower to my twenty year old self. This growing-up-realization took me back to something that happened last night.
I was sitting beside Ammi at the taraweeh place. She was talking about something I don’t remember what. She reminded me of how strange a kid I was. “You were so weird, whenever we used to visit someone, you always took off your shoes or sandals and asked me to put them on a higher place so that nobody else would touch them. And you know why? Just because you once saw a kid touching your favorite pair of shoes.” I chuckled and replied, “I was possessive about my things.” She rolled her eyes and said, “You still are.” I looked at her, blinked and said, “Well.. I might be but I don’t think I care anymore. Most of the things don’t matter to me anymore.” Her expressions changed into a worrisome face, “Yes, and that’s the problem. It’s wrong you know.” I replied, “Mhmm.” and closed the thread of the conversation.
As the month of my birthday is coming closer, I am thinking about this more and more. Why do we have to grow up? Why do we have to fit in the molds of the society? Why doesn’t anyone care? Why do we lose ourselves somewhere in the middle of this metamorphosis?
I don’t think answers to these questions exist. It’s just because we have to.. To survive and make it out alive.