The story of blog manager.

          

Everyone has a story, and this is mine.

Once upon a time, a little girl had infinite friends played by her best friend. Her best friend, my best friend, was this old lady in her mid 80’s. This lady, who was considered mad by almost everyone I knew. She was vintage and the best. She had hair above her shoulder always dipped in coconut oil, her fragrance was of innocence just like a new born, she used to dress saggy, and almost had her jaws meet. She didn’t talk much and I still struggle to listen.

 

When I was five, my family and I moved to a new place. I lost my friend, but not her smell. I had another friend whom I left in her care. He had those twinkling eyes which wouldn’t stop following me. He was the purest little soul I found hanging out to himself in our backyard. He was white with brown patches and had a tiny pink nose. He lived with us until the day I convinced myself he was better friends with my antique. 

Our new house was a room with shaped bamboo walls on its four sides, a slanted tin roof and no windows. I preferred spending time in the open along with my best company, my new neighbor, my new friend. She was unique and absolutely restless. She was little over my age and her company reminded me of my lost smell. Although we went to the same school, we never met. One fine day, I walked up to her classroom without realizing how vulnerable I was in the senior floor and ended up getting bullied. During kindergarten, I was a shy child but as I was growing up, I had slowly begun gathering my voice without my conscious knowledge. I went back there again and again to meet her, unless the day I manage to speak up staring at those little gifts from devil with my piercing eyes. That day, along with me, my friend too felt empowered. 

My mother is an optimistic lady, who views life as an experience. She believes one must not stop learning and discovering for themselves. I was seven when my parents took me for my swimming classes, and I still remember their cheerful faces when I finally assembled my courage to get down into the pool.  After observing the tae-kwon-do classes near the pool for a couple of weeks, I confessed to mom that I was a ninja in disguise, and I must train myself to sharpen my skills. My father, at this point found a renowned Guru who would train me in an Indian classical dance form I always wished to master. Later, they took me for music training, more dance forms, rowing and I was almost left with no time with my friend in my neighborhood and a bunch of others I had nurtured in my head. 

I was a popular teen at school and the mischievous kind. We were a bunch which would celebrate every day. My friends and I always found ourselves in trouble and that’s how we are remembered. While in high school, I developed my love for debates. I soon went on to learn and unlearn my previously conceived ideas. This was the time I was on board to discover and rediscover the person I was. I realized my mother was a wise woman for she tried to enlighten me about how life is nothing but a thread of experiences.

Now I am in college. I am young and hopeful. And like most of us, I am secretly involved in a mindless war with my curves. I am a naive lover and the gleeful friend. I struggle with choices, as I remain confused whether I am already affirming myself as an adult or am I just a usual 20-year-old. The idea of breaking rules tickles but my parallel ego wants to express itself as a responsible citizen. All that I have been, and the person that I am today, amidst all confusions I fell in love with my body and my mind. The joy of being me remains in nurturing my qualities and believing I can be a wiser and better person. 

Kudos!