I stood under the shower, thinking about the conversation I just had with my little cousin sister. I did everything to her, that I despised while growing up. Imparted gyaan, reasoned and everytime it failed, snubbed her teen spirit to subjugation. All she wanted was to 'hang out' with her friends, the word ensured Appa said NO. A duel of words with Appa, his sword held high and she relentlessly yapping.
My peace on a sunday felt threatened, acting the big knowledgeable guy I intervened. I tell her the gyaan of not going out, my silly reasons of course. She looks infuriated, knowing fully well, I wouldn't ever let her win, not even for pleasure - would use the final trump, drawing attention to the so called 'experience' factor and play the U.S. in the Security Counsel, vetoing any reason that she might rise. I loathed grown ups who snubbed me, while growing up and yet I am being one!!
A friends call late in the night and we were talking about the shallowness of the youth. Bitching, is what I would call it, if the conversation was between members of the fairer sex, any day of the year ! Women are supposed to do that, and here I was doing it with a friend from years back. The male chauvinist growing big in me with the knowledge I am growing old, each day living closer to the Certitude and in Anil's opine, a finality to the ME and my flesh. Maybe staying with parents makes me feel young and then with couple of sisters, who knows about space, I am quite invariably made to feel served. They wouldn't mind doing my bed, making sure the bed is made in my absence. They make me feel young, the whole lot, a prodigal sons return back home, quite unsure, how much bigger have my space grown. Quite hesitant, leaving me happy when the audience is not called for.
I look up to Ronaldo and Messi, dreaming about yet another childhood and some day growing to be like them. And painstakingly the reality sinks in, they are younger than me ! Thankfully the presence of a little God in Cricket, whose devotee I am not, makes me feel like a teenager, for he had been around, ever since I care to remember. The dreams of childhood, to have climbed every tree around the globe, to have ran in every race, to have done everything possible under the sun, have been chiseled away. A little of those remains, so precious to be scarred with the pain of being chiseled.