Step By Step

Do you ever wonder about your life? How far you've come and where you're headed? Don't you have a little picture in your head? The one that shows you were you want to be every time you're in doubt, when you don't know what to do, when you're not sure whether you are the person you wanted to be.

I think about it all. I think long and hard. At times I feel a deep gratitude towards everyone who's been there for me and helped me along that path. My parents and brother, my kindergarten teacher, my aunt, my friends... A long list trails in my head and it wouldn't make sense for me to put all the names down here. But on the other hand, I feel a vile, sinister loathing for everyone who's been a hindrance. No, I'm not going to be all noble and say that they helped me on my way in a different way and all that because that's not how I feel about them. I look back and I remember every little detail, and I remember everything I've wanted to say to them. Time has passed since and not all these grudges can be dug up again. Trying to do so would seem extremely foolish and I don't intend on trying. But then my selfish mind moves on to me. Enough time for the people you love and hate, it cries out, and then to me. It makes its motives very clear. Very clear indeed.

As a person I have changed over the years. From a kid who was more aware than he should've been, to a kid who knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, it was an eventful first few years. Reverse psychology or not I knew exactly what people didn't want me to do, and I did those things whenever I felt like it. Impulsively. And it gave me weird satisfaction... No, I'm not writing this because it makes me seem like some wonder kid but I really did feel this way. Surprisingly. But I learnt so much along the way. How to enjoy reading, how to play video games, how to swim, and how to be patient, although it took a long, long time for me to understand the true meaning of 'being patient'. To wait and not think about the wait while waiting. Somehow it never happened... It's like how the first thing the mind thinks of when you ask it not to think about something is the same something it's not supposed to think of in the first place.

I had an intensity that I wasn't very proud of. Some things had to be some certain way. The velcro on my karate uniform, the laces on my shoes (although I solved this problem later by buying velcro shoes instead), the collars on my shirts, my security blanket. And I liked some things. Closed lego structures, never reading the last page of a book till I reached it, writing down stories whenever I felt like it, celery sticks, science kits. My mother poured her love into me. She spent her free time taking me to the library, picking out Frog and Toad books for me to read. She spent countless hours watching and re-watching Disney classics with me. She took me swimming, gymnastics, taek-won-do, soccer. I asked her to let me cook, "Once we move back to India" she said. "The buildings there are made of stone so nothing will burn in case something goes wrong". My father taught me how to play on the Super Nintendo, he taught me how to balance fun with work, and how not to talk too much or do too much in the presence of company.

I found it hard to get along with people. I was too judgemental. A couple of moments was enough for me to figure out a person, I thought. I had very few friends... although I don't really regret it. I'm not someone who depends on friends for survival anyway. But when I trust people I trust them a lot. Sounds cliched but it's true in a very funny way. I take lots of things for granted. I look back now and I realize that. I have no idea how that random bit of information fits in here but it's true, like everything else I'm saying here.

I remember the smells and sounds of places vividly. The smell of the basement of our Van Dorn Village house, the smell of the lawn, the musty smell of summers spent in India, the smell of mehendi, the smell of school after we moved back, the phenyl smell in the restrooms. Wow, it's quite overwhelming at times. The "Paaaaaaapaaiiiir" cry of the guy who took back used papers, the vegetable vendor's call, the bell of the ice-cream push cart. It's all in my head, almost as if it happened yesterday.

Once we'd come back to India for vacation and my mom put me in school here. I was pretty surprised that people wanted me to go to school when I was on vacation (Later I found out my mom sent me to school because she thought I'd be bored at home. God!). I was a part of their kindergarten class and had to learn the alphabet again. Mind you, I'd already started writing sentences at school back in the States. Padma miss, class teacher. Random kids, although there was one guy from near my grandparent's place with whom I used to hang out with. I still remember lunch on the first day I attended this "summer" school. My mom and aunt dropped by with a eversilver box full of grapes, and then my mom handed me a book with nice Disney illustrations on its cover. I opened it, and to my dismay I found ruled pages. I was used to finding Disney stories inside these kinds of books and this came as a rude shock to me. Why would someone decorate a plain old notebook so elaborately? I had no idea. I still don't.

I take a quick look at what I've written till now and I see everything's orthogonal to everything else. I had no idea how this post would turn out but now I think I know it's just an effort to try and figure out how the past fits into the present. Anyway I'll take it step by step. Part 2 is for another day.