The days that were...

Two plaits, dirty school uniform, smelly socks, heavy school bag. And an empty lunch box. With the whole evening left in front of me to spend the way I want to I sit there with a bowl of  dal rice staring at the TV watching some sucky hindi serial waiting for the hero to hold the heroine’s hand and say ‘ I love you’ , waiting for the quite and beautiful daughter in law to give back all that she got from her mother in law. With nothing running in my mind except that TV serial I finish the dal rice spoon by spoon not knowing when I will stop half way to  not miss an interesting scene. Once done I leave the bowl aside and relax a bit. But the TV is still switched on.  I am still waiting for the hero or daughter in law to do something. And slowly my eyes close and I am fast asleep with the TV still running. But I then wake up to the noise of the boys playing cricket and once I am up I freshen up and run to the terrace to play. Cricket? Yes. Cricket. I know it’s a boy thing. No one would want me to be in their team. But I never cared. Always waiting for someone to throw the ball at me so I could hit it outside.

Life was tension free and aim less then.

With a startle I wake up in the morning thinking how much work is to be done today. Rushing with my formal clothes and hair, I drink my milk and walk out of the house with the only thought, ‘I hope the train is not late today’. I catch the train and stare at everywoman possible in the ladies compartment. Every woman’s eyes have something to say. Some are just waiting to get off the train. Some are lost in the music. Some busy blushing and talking to their boyfriends, some wondering how life passed by so fast, some worrying if their children are fine. Some still figuring out how life will unfold for them. A lot of things run into my head.

I am no more the careless girl waiting for the hero to hold the heroine’s hand in the serial. I am no more the girls who plays with the boys. I am no more the girl sitting there with her dirty school clothes not worrying of what people think of her. I am grown up, expected to behave and dress well. If I laugh and go for a walk with a boy he is labelled my boyfriend. I am no more the girl with nothing running in her head. I am supposed to make decisions. Perform. Prove to the world that I am something. Although life is different I miss the girl I was. Waiting for the serial to turn its story. Waiting to hit the ball for a six. No more the girl sitting on the sofa with the big bowl of rice. Now I am supposed to have table manners and eat without dropping.

Life is going to take me through its various phases. But that phase of my life will never be forgotten where I was who I was and not what people wanted me to be....