Posts Tagged ‘Nostalgia’
Sigh. As much as I hate to admit, Dela was right. Gone are the days when upon hearing names like Rajnikanth, Mani Ratnam or even Sadagoppan Ramesh for that matter, my ears would shoot up hoping to hear bits of conversation in a language that I could finally understand. The voluntary introductions to Tamil/Kannada speaking Matkas seem like April Fools’ jokes gone horribly wrong, when I look at them through the rabbithole of nostalgia.
My mutation finally culminated yesterday. I stood in between two gentlemen conversing in a language that I’ve heard all in my life, feigning ignorance with a face placider than R2D2. I even hummed the tune of a despicable Hindi song in case my reactions gave me away and they would start suspecting my origins. Life has come a full circle. The centrifugal force wasn’t particularly enjoyable though. May the force have mercy on my soul.
It is that familiar time of the year again, when every group family on campus worth its aloo-subzi hyperactively initiates its annual family planning ritual. It was however during a completely different and predominantly enterprising endaevour that I found myself back in Fort knox, the only difference being that I was now the hunter. The smell of fresh meat pervaded the atmosphere, being on this side of the table was sure going to be fun, such sadistic pleasures came to foreplay. *Pop (goes the weasel).. These “confident, interesting, outgoing <insert cliched term used by freshers to describe themselves>” people burst my bubble by prefixing, suffixing and affixing every possible statement by three irritating letters Sir(jee?). Being a firm believer in the philosophy that “Respect should be commanded and not demanded”, this is one thing about R that had always irked me. Yet never had reality hit me this hard; whoever said “giving is better than receiving”, sure wasn’t kidding. “I’m just 18 for christ’s sake, not any older than you, and in all probability no smarter either”, I wanted to scream out loud, but the morons’ adulation for me knew no bounds. Before I knew it, sirs were being hurled at me left, right and centre. The I-was-just-waiting-for-this paranoia of being too old soon started knocking my door.
19 years on and Senescence still remains one of the more arcane elements of life. Perhaps it is the Almighty’s own divine way of saying with panache, “Screw you… I’m the maaaan”. As I enter my last year of teenage-dom (Or have I already crossed it? The 19 completed, 20 running thingy always confuses me), the metaphorical difference between 19 and 20 has never been so apparent. I shall soon embark on the journey that from the land of the young to that of the young-at-heart, while the clock (relentlessly) ticks life away. As the all-encompassing 21.2 looms large, I seek solace in Mathematics. If there exists an average, then clearly the set must contain ATLEAST one element below the average and I consider myself to be the chosen one.
One fine day when I’m 63 (which FYI is 42+21), I shall be regaling my grandkids with glorious tales surrounding mah heroism – my romantic escapades, innumerable concubines, jostles with the templar knights, revelling in my imagination. And then my second childhood shall set in.
But it’s not the bard’s magical words which ring in my mind but a classy one-liner from a even classier maddu song, “Jalsa” (Do download it. It’s worth the effort, I promise you).
Irukara varikum anubavikka ilamayae yethukko da
(Learn to accept youth till it lasts)
Happy Birthday, bah, a poor excuse to pick a man’s pocket every year.
P.S: *bows to Freddie. You are a legend.
P.P.S: Happy Birthday rapu-ra!