I stuck all my old posters in my new room just before Deewali in a desperate attempt to make my room look like that of my 18 year old self. But somehow, they no longer fit the character of the room. I look at them and realize that the kid who had a million expectations and dreams in his eyes is no longer here.
My old room was a small 10 by 12 with room for hardly anything. It was my first room and I was madly in love with it. It had a single cupboard, a single diwan and a big table. And lots of mess, unholy, lovely mess. And after fitting them all in the room, there was room left only to walk around.
My new room is a huge 14 by 16 with three cupboards, a huge mirror (I hate mirrors), and an attached bathroom. It feels like the room of a married couple. My lovely posters look alien in it, so does the kid who once stood out of his room at four in the morning after having finished reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of fire, slightly shivering in the drizzle and marveling at the skills of J K Rowling. the kid who idolized Snape, believed in magic and had a crush on Hermione....
I was fiercely protective of my old room. I hated having to give it to anyone. And now, I don't really care as long as people keep their hands off my stuff. I hate having a mirror in the room, not that I don't like looking at myself, but just that it doesn't fit my character.
I hate having a double bed to sleep on, drab walls that seem to be politely tolerating my wonderful posters... Most of all I hate the neatness that seems to emphasize on how much I've grown up, how much I've HAD to grow up.
When I was kid, I used to rally as the leader of all the kids (which comprised of my little cousins who thought the world of me). I believed that kids were wonderful, I'd never contemplated growing up myself. And now that I have, I look back fondly at all that I've had, trying to hold on to the feeling, trying to retain the faith, the confidence, the hope.... and the dreams. But the new me has disassociated himself from his child-self. Maybe its important, maybe someday, after a long time, I will read this post and miss my almost 25 year old self...
Growing up is a part of life. We move on from an age, and all its bearings, sometimes glad to have moved on, sometimes pensive at what's been left behind. But one has to learn to grow up too... learn to do justice to every age, so that when we ultimately move on, we have fond memories of ourselves.
