I’ve always loathed change. Now, if anyone is named Change, you should know I’m not talking about you.
Sorry. I should really stop starting stories with lame jokes. I promise you I’m working on that bit.
I’ve always been like that (no, not the lame joke bit, the change bit). Disgusted and scared of change. Scared of what it could do and how it would alter my life.
When mum and dad bought a new home I was in my third standard. I remember dramatised sessions of weeping. I wept because I was leaving behind old friends whom I loved and hated, lanes that I was familiar with. I was leaving behind the bend on the road where my brother beheaded by barbie doll. I was walking away from the abandoned telephone booth that I would walk up to with ammama to feed the abandoned dog that took shelter there. I was walking away from all the future huge number of gifts that I would receive for my birthday, considering there were a lot of children in the colony.
I had no choice. My adorableness wasn’t going to feed me. Neither was/is my narcissism.
But then, my childhood turned out pretty fine. I made friends, got lesser gifts (I once got a biscuit packet as a gift. The packet was not even gift-wrapped. Instead it came straight from the shop with five rupees in a plastic cover. Cheapskate)
Every time I would have the slightest inkling that something was going to change I would panic. I do that even now. In fact I’m doing that right now.
A dear, dear friend of mine is going to get married. I couldn’t be happier for her and she knows that as well. But, when I was brimming with joy, guess who caught up with me? Change.
That’s not the only thing that is slowly getting altered in life at this point. I have a lot of decisions to take. Decisions that are scary because they bring with them a lot of new things. Not just a simple change of address. It means moving away from family, friends who’ve become family and all the memories that the city delicately protects and saves for me.
But, I guess, that’s the sad part of growing up.
I guess, that’s also the good part of growing up.
Changing, letting go of our old, tired and worn-out wings only to find that somewhere underneath the chaos lie a set of new wings.
Waiting to be explored. Waiting to bring the new change.
I’m aware, this brings with it a new way of life. Whether I make a decision to do things or not.
Till then, the process of changing might continue to rattle me.
But, the joy of learning new roads, new people and lessons seems enough to push me for now.