"The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing."
- Blaise Pascal

:) *sigh*

Independent me?

Generally whenever anyone poses a typical "What does independence mean to you?" question, I have a set of responses ready to rattle out. You know the type, the freedom of speech and freedom of thought and expression stuff.Last year while watching CNN IBN, Paras Tomar posed a question which has had me thinking ever since. He asked "What does independence mean to someone who has always lived in a free country?"

The question hit me hard. I realize that I don't know what it is like to be not free. To not have these privileges. So what do I really mean when I give these answers? Seeing that I have nothing to compare against. All my life I have had the freedom to say and do what I want. Because the country allows it and also because my family does. Would I be appreciating freedom more if it was briefly taken away from me? Maybe.

Notice that even when I am posing a rhetoric question, I use the word briefly. That's how scary it is.


What is freedom really? What is independence?

Watching your father become a child again : priceless

My father’s engineering batch just had their 30 year reunion.

It was the most delightful thing to watch my generally serious, stiff, reserved and introverted father let go and have such a blast. I do not know if it is going back to his alma mater or whether it is the high of meeting people who knew you since your 70s hairstyle and bush-shirts-and-bellbottoms days which did that. Backslaps, exchanges of old stories and scandals, laughing over the old fist fights, dancing after 30 years, laughing more, smiling more, hugging more. There were some heartfelt speeches which even shut up the cynic in me (Not something which happens often I can assure you). It was emotional to say the least. Even for an outsider like me!

Makes you wonder why it takes 30 years for a reunion to happen.

PBDS

Pre Birthday Depressive Syndrome. PBDS. Something I go through every year.

Birthdays both excite and depress me.

The child in me is excited with all the attention I will get.
The adult will ask me "So Sravanthi...You are 22 now. What have you done with your life?".

I have no answers. None that will entirely satisfy my rational mind atleast. When I was younger it used to be something like learning to tie my shoe laces or learning to iron my own uniform. Now my mind looks for bigger things. Which I don't find. *sigh*

And 22 is OLD!!!! 21 is a nice age. The young-hot-blooded-passionate-take over and change the world type of age. At a few days before I turn 22 I feel more sober already. Like I have to be more responsible. Like I have to choose wisely. Like I have to tread carefully henceforth.

In the logical sense it shouldn't matter this much you know. What is a birthday after all? Just an acknowledgement of another year gone. Just another day. A day can't make you change. A day can't sober you up. Numbers don't matter. 22 is just another random number. It is. It is. It is. There. I have said it now. If only I can believe it.

Damn.

Dear Sneha,

This is a week late. Nevertheless...

Six years ago when we met in the classroom at Chinmaya, little did I know then that you would end up becoming such an important person in my life. I think we barely exchanged pleasantries and introductions. I don't know how we became friends, but I am really glad we did.

The Rs.5 icecream ritual (finish lunch fast,discreetly slip out as if going to the loo, quickly scavenge for change, buy the icecream and find a safe place to eat it) may have ended. But a lot of things haven't. You still remain the one person who I know will never judge me. You still are the person who gives me that sense of calm. You still write your h's and t's with a scale! You still cut vegetables with scientific precision. You still can't scream much at people.

You still remain a constant in my life.

Happy Birthday Sneha!!!!