A Letter to My 16-Year-Old Self

Dear Clueless Priyanka,

You think there is nothing sweet about turning 16 and I think you are right. Trust me 28 is much better but 23–25 is when life will bestow all its beauty on you. You will be fat but oh so cute! So don’t worry too much.

In the next decade three people will tell you earnestly that you live up to your name. The first time you hear this you’ll smile politely and make a mental note to find out the meaning of your name. You’ll forget all about it for 3 years and then a friend will say the same thing. This time you’ll miss-call your mom, using your mobile phone (yes, you’ll have a phone of your own and incoming calls will be free!). When she’ll call back, you’ll ask her the meaning and then in your trade mark style shed a tear and hug your friend, slyly wiping your tears on Rahul’s shirt. The third time, you’ll just feel a strong pang of humility. Not many would understand why you are the way you are. Some will make fun of you and even take advantage; you’ll be bull-headed and continue to be nice. You will be the most loved one.

The next time a guy comes to you to tell you that he likes you, you’ll smile as if a hanger is stuck in your mouth instead of choking on your sobs. Remember, if a guy tells you he likes you, you don’t have to marry him or worry about from where the money to support the family will come. Rest assured, just because Mukul said he liked you does not mean you have to marry him. Please don’t cry for a month over it. Trust me, you’ll remember his awkward approach and your reaction and laugh clutching your stomach a few years from now. Plus, people will soon forget the stupid nickname, ladybird, that he gave you. You’ll be the only one who’ll remember it and smile.

Your love for books and words will never die. It will haunt you day and night. Richard Bach will guide you to wisdom, till you discover Voltaire. You’ll discover Hindi literature and slowly progress to find the magic of Gulzar. Films will soon become life. No one will be able to take the place of Rhett Butler as your true love. Spices will spice up your life. You’ll cook. You’ll be good in the kitchen. You’ll own a car in your twenties and dance to the one person concerts in your car on your way to work. You’ll always love dancing. You’ll continue to sing despite everyone and I mean everyone you know discouraging you to even hum. Don’t mind them as long as it sounds good in your head!

Remember Dada was so excited about internet a few months before he died. You did not pay much attention to his ramblings pretending to be rebellious. Well, internet will change your life in more ways than one. You will fall in love thanks to the internet. You’ll realise that you are in love with Delhi. This love will lead you to boast about your city on your blogs and suddenly, you’ll interact with a lot of people from across the world. You’ll write and some people will appreciate what you churn out. In fact, by the time you turn 28, you will find your name and articles in the supplement of India Today twice and a few newspaper magazines will have interviewed you on some or the other occasion for your blogging.

You’ll travel for work and pleasure. You’ll begin the process of finding yourself while working on a documentary film in the jungles of Chhatisgarh (this will be a new state carved out of Madhya Pradesh), forests and villages of Maharashtra and Tamil Nadu. You’ll start believing in the essential goodness of people. Though your dream of becoming a filmmaker will not materialize, you’ll discover another love, photography. You’ll be very happy with your clicks most of the times. You’ll discover yourself every time you’ll try to control the light.

I know that since Dada died everyone has been telling you that you have to be strong. They will be surprised at your reserve of strength in a few years. You’ll be surprised as well. Mom will be diagnosed with cancer. But as strong as she is, she will come out of it with flying colours. You will love her even more and the hero worshipping will scale new heights.

You will lose your ‘attitude of a fighter’ and make friends. Friends who will stick by your side even when they get married and move to another state and even other countries. You’ll make friends everywhere you go. You’ll make real friends thanks to the virtual world. You’ll make friends in villages and in cities. The best thing is you’ll understand that valuing people is important. More important than anything else. You'll learn that the best gift you can gift anyone is time but you'll continue to gift other things as well. And don't worry you'll receive plenty of gifts as well. You’ll try real hard but will never understand why people love you. Word of advice, don’t try hard, it is one of the mysteries that make life interesting.

You will donate blood. You’ll be proud of yourself. You’ll be obsessed with everything to do with Shah Rukh Khan. You’ll be proud of yourself. American TV will mould your life values soon. You’ll seriously contemplate moving to the US, just to have a life of the characters of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Sanity will prevail and so shall the dream. You’ll be proud of yourself. You’ll work in all possible fields of mass communication before finding your planet. You’ll be proud of yourself. You’ll be impulsive. You’ll make friends, take risks, travel to unknown places and become a narcissist. You’ll get a tattoo to stamp your narcissism on your body for life. You’ll be proud of yourself!

You’ll not be embarrassed when your mom or anyone else for that matter will call you by your nicknames in public. Soon you’ll know that nicknames are given to only those people whom we love and want to give an identity that has our own stamp. You’ll be blessed to have at least 50 nicknames by the time you turn 28.

Like I said, you will be the most loved one. Most importantly, you’ll learn to love yourself and your life.

Loads of love,

Priyanka

(who thinks she has figured it all out but kindness of people around her still baffles her)

The idea for this post came from http://mentalexotica.wordpress.com/2011/06/23/dear-16-year-old-mentalexotica/ So many inspiring letters on this post. Do read and take

Of Free Food And Adventure

The best remedy for a bad day is to remember a day that figures somewhere in the list of the most memorable ones that one has spent ever. Not that today is bad in comparison to some the worst I have had, but it still had elements that pushed me into the realms of nostalgia. In case you enjoy reading this anecdote of my life and feel like reading more please do me a favour and do not wish for more days like today to fill my life. :-)

Being in an all girls’ college, having guy friends was a sort of a privilege that only a few of us could boast of. I think my stars were lucky and Rahul, better known as ‘stinky’ to the bloggersphere, and I embarked on a lifelong friendship. He was an influence on me that I swear to god if I ever have a daughter, I would never want her to have. Friendly as I am I very conveniently became a part of Rahul’s college group as well. So after six months of meeting Rahul I was best friends with 14 other people and our group of 16 would create a ruckus across the roads of South Delhi.

On a November day the college adjacent to my college –Kamla Nehru College, Gargi, arguably the more happening of the two, had some festival (known as fest in college slang) going on. All of us decided to grace the fest and turned out in our fineries. So Rahul, me and the gang went to the fest danced for a while and then after being bored of the music and checking out all the girls and guys respectively decided to walk to South-Ex for chuski (ice-cones dipped in yummy syrups of various flavours). On our way we saw a marriage tent.

It was around 2 o’clock and we were a little bewildered to see a wedding tent and the Sikh boy in our group, Jaspreet called Jasso lovingly and even when being teased or humiliated, pointed out that it was a Sikh wedding. Being in college, adventure and free food topped our list of priorities and not always in that order. The guys as intelligent as they are, led by Rahul suggested that we all were suitably dressed and we should just mingle with the wedding party and hog on all the food and the wedding celebration. Not one to agree to such disgusting suggestions I opposed vehemently but as they say, strength lies in unity and the other 15 ganged up on me and insisted, “You better learn to be improper. It’s high time.” Now how could I argue against such a convincing argument?

Meekly, (well not really but I like to, through my blog, live vicariously like characters that I can never ever be in real life) I followed suit. At the risk of being abused by Rahul and gang I would like to tell the readers that they are a bunch that can make you do the silliest of things and then ensure that after 3-4 years you remember your foolishness as one of the best times you have ever had. So, a totally spellbound me, and my other friends entered the venue and then began an over the top performance. We were at our Punjabi best, “Namaste auntiji, tussi te bahut hi vadiya lag rahe ho” (Aunty you are looking very good), “uncleji, main ki dassan inna vadiya khana te inni vadiya decoration assi te vekhya hi nahi hai” (uncle, what should I say, I have never seen such brilliant food arrangement and decorations ever). We were so bad in our acting that I would have easily nominated us for the lifetime achievement Raspberries awards (opposite to the Oscars, given for bad performances). We had free food, great loud music, a preference specific to that age and wonderful friendly people who were prototypes of Indian hospitality.
After our stomachs full, hearts overflowing with the love and concern that the hosts showered, our conscious hit us. Rahul suggested that we all at least have the courtesy of gifting the married couple some amount of token money. College was a time when we never had more that rupees 100 in our wallets. So we all huddled and decided to collect the money. We all were sieving out ten rupee notes from the crevices of our bags, jeans pockets and from places I don’t even want to remember or mention.

At this opportune moment, a hurly burly, white-bearded Sardaji came to us. With one hand on Rahul’s shoulder, the other on my head, he said, “Beta ji! Tussi ki kar rahe ho?” (Children what are you doing?). I am pretty sure that I had gone pale. On the other hand, Rahul continued to be in the character, of an invited guest at the wedding, and replied “Namaste uncle ji. Assi te sirf jijajee de joote chuppan di setting kar rahe si. (we were just conspiring to hide the shoes of the groom.) Uncle said that he did not recognize us. And Rahul, ever the smart Alec, said with full confidence that the reason behind him not being able to identify us was probably because we were from the bride’s side. Life has always turned out refreshing surprises on us and it was in no different mood that day. Uncle smiled and said very calmly that he was the father of the bride. Ever the cry baby, I was ready to find out a way out of the crisis my shedding truck loads of tears.

Rahul tried once again to slither away and said, “I mean we are from the groom’s side.” Uncle just laughed, looked at my watery eyes, called for the waiter and asked him to get me a glass of water. He then said, “I am glad that you kids came to the wedding. Now that you have had your fill of the food come join us in celebrating the wedding of my daughter.” At this point, all the 16 of us had huge smiles and tears in our eyes. I am sure the guys would not mind taking me to the court for this defamation of their manliness. We had a ball dancing at the wedding. It was better than any discotheque or college jam session. Just before leaving, we had had the decency of putting together rupees 500 amongst all of us. However, when we gave the envelope (that we had asked for from one of the other guests) of money to uncle, he scolded us and in a typical Indian melodramatic format said that children do not give money to elders. Rather, he thrust envelopes containing rupees 100 each in all our hands.

It has been over 4 years since the incident and even today we all go together to visit uncle once a year on the day we crashed his daughter’s wedding. We all our working, some are now married and even have children. The whole clan goes to uncle’s house not because he fed us and gave us money but because he included a bunch of adventurous college goers into his family.