My World Today!

July 30^th was “my” day and I celebrated that special day locked up in my room, depressing myself, smoking, eating kuhva and surprisingly, listening to sentimental songs. When you’ve crossed that quarter mile and you notice a new line of wrinkle on the morning of your supposedly celebratory birthday, can you still craft a smashing party? No way! Well, for others who’ve gone further ahead of me, I may sound overtly obnoxious and self-centered, showing off what they believe would be the prime of youth, but I do, honestly, feel I have lost so much in life.

For one, I love wearing short skirts not because I like to flaunt off my bare legs (Believe me, when you’re endowed with a pair of bowed legs as mine, you would’nt be too enthusiastic either) but because it enables you to divest yourself of all the stiffness and sweat deterring, gross manly hair laxity, nipping and tucking in those tribal bipeds in a pant that fits at the waist but not at the bottom and the glitch everytime your new pair of jeans fits your butts perfect but hangs loosely below. Mom’s bequest handed over to me without any previous legal notice, hmmm… parents, they just don’t care :))) They keep telling each of us “You are our child, we love you with all your errr… nonstandard looks 'cos you came from us”. Aaah Helloooo, what about “She might feel insecure about her heights, her figure, her everything later, so, lets spend all the money we have to find the perfect surrogate mother and then as third worlders, lets beg any Hollywood hunk to donate a sperm and we both will add a little of our saliva just so we can claim she has our DNA”.

Anyway, where were we? Skirts..Right. Skirts are so uncomplicated, comfy and EYE CATCHING ;-) and for these reasons alone, and not because I hate repressive societal double standard, I miss my short skirt wearing ability days. I mean, its not that I’d made a trip to Thailand and came back a man and so now detest skirt, here in Mizoram, society imposes certain restrictions and girls of my age wearing shorty shorty skirts in public would be “tch, tch” at by onlookers. Though at home, I wear them with pigtails and an Enid Blyton’s book in my Barbie backpack to complete my kiddish fantasy. Errr…come to think of it, if a pair of high heels is added in the picture you’d get a distorted version of a Playmate wannabe :)) Enough said, moving on with “why I miss being in my early 20s”:- I enjoyed a genuine carefree life with my fellow carefree friends and together, we scaled buses, footpaths, secondhand lanes and a thousand flight of steps to friends’ places. There were no exam fevers, we called ourselves “foolish braves” but always managed to clear our exams a little over our expectations. Lady luck favored young, worry-free, high spirited, contented girls back then. We often chipped in our meagered amount of money just to clear a friend’s phone bill or buy a purse for another one. Birthdays were always eagerly awaited because those were the days our parents gave extra grants and in turn, resulted in extra niceties for all of us.

Once you’ve moved beyond your life of blithe and moved into your serious academic pursuits, the laughter ceased. There came the career worries, marks obsessions, husband- material -boyfriends -deprivaion anxiety and cholesterol inducing quarter life crisis(credit: Ku2). Now you know why I miss my life of the before.

But there are few consolations in  this present, hectic, wrinkly life:

1) him first… there’s a great guy who has always stood by me, through thick and thin, despite my constant betrayal for friends over him and my youngish immaturity hangover, he has managed to make me hold onto him and has made me return the love he has been showering upon me from the start. I’ve been pampered but I’ve pouted so many times in return and still he indulges me. He has taught me to be good, to be happy and contented with life, to bear life’s bridles and has promised a future worth waiting for. I believe him.

2) My friends, the T-35, we call ourselves, not because we all had the same kind of thongs worth Rs.35 each but because we simply like the letter T and the number 35! They were my closest friends in our college days and they still are though two of them had ventured out to Delhi and we somehow got disconnected for a short while. But now they have returned, and came back successful “phai-returnees.” In fact, they came back prettier than before which left me wondering if the polluted air of Delhi is better than our much valued Zo air. Now we have started to build that bridge again and soon, I hope, we can relive some of those youthful gaiety we once shared.

 4)And of course, my family, families are the foundations of our strength and without mine, I would be a complete ruin.