Letter to my childhood self

Dear Teshu (my childhood name),

It’s been long since I have talked to you, in fact, it’s been long that I have acknowledged your presence at all. You have been alive all this time, feeding off my happiness of the present, for you were always sick then, and food was a luxury. I hear you all the time, asking, why I have forgotten you and your ways, your attitude, your lessons. You try and remind me the way my problems were momentary, away from my cartoons, my video games and my books. You have, for the countless number of times, helped me get back to my moments in which I needn’t be an adult, in which my life was just me going out to play a game of football or Cricket, as per the mood of the gang. You made me realise that even though no one let you play with them coz you didn’t know any swear words, didn’t affect the fact that you were always doing well in your studies, was great at co-curricular and had nothing to complain. You remember how everything was immaterial compared to your cartoons. But apart from these, there are memories that haunt me today, of ignorance, of negligence, of being the odd one. Those days when you didn’t have any friend, or when you couldn’t stay fit enough to even lift your head up. When you were always shunned away by people you needed, and accepted by those who needed you for the wrong reasons. I have memories of the wrong people teaching the right lessons, and of right people not teaching me anything at all. You are a mix bag of complications that are not worth investing time in to simplify. I don’t have problems anymore, no and no responsibilities either. Yes, people still leave me, or I leave them, but now I know, people were never important, cartoons were, and most importantly, so were you. Thank you for all the memories, thank for being my conscience, thank you for being my pathbreaker and my pacifier. Thank you Teshu.

Ritwiik (your 15 yr older self)


The first Encounter.

As clock ticked on and so did my feet with a synchronizing pace, it was all merry and peaceful. The drift in the wind slowly drifted my mind to things which were of higher concern for me, no wait for my heart. My heart has had this habit to always prick the sensitive spot on my brain and then to further push it into quick sand, today eyes gave way to her beautiful image. A beautiful smile with them wells of love on her cheeks, that short cut hair falling perfectly right above her shoulders complementing her doe like eyes were contributing to the fact how sun even couldn’t leave her out of the spotlight. The image was a pacifier, a smile could bring drought to my heart while her glance, one glance could bring me to my knees. The feet, the time had hit a jolt, questioning the very existence of synchronization, I felt like standing at the crossroads of infatuation and love. As she moved on, my mind pulled the plugs from the heart and started to fall in line for the rat race again. But it suddenly was hard, was tiresome to run the race, let alone finish it. As time clicked on, hour chimed, the feet stayed glued to the wire of hearts and while I concentrated all my might towards pulling them apart, they somehow defied everything.

The wire fueling energy to stay in this world filled with drama, brimming emotions, craving for a single dive or even a peek into her favorites, her interests, basically her poetry that is – life. The heart longed to address her from across the alley, to make her notice the verses of my poem. But somehow, the words never came out. They never reached the point where you feel the adrenaline and then you gather the left over courage to actually walk that extra mile. it left me sans confidence or rather sans belief. Then as i perpetrated my introspection of this poetry, checking the wrong rhyming scheme, where the words werent being able to convey unerringly I saw a shadow with my eyes towards the earth. It looked like someone was approaching me. And as that person did, a voice rang in my ears – “Hi”. It was a female voice for sure. And as I looked up, as she beamed with nervousness, I became conscious of EVERYTHING. When there was no other emotion than utter astonishment, she again said- “Hey”. And then began a verse, a new one in my poetry that is- life. While the verse had perfect rhyming scheme and I somehow rediscovered the synchronization, this time it was different as this time it was her feet and my time. By the hours, the days passed and relationship also escalated in a similar fashion. It may feel like I was falling in love but I still was in the cross roads of infatuation and well, love. Those long times spent together were giving us deeper insights about about our different stanzas. while the opening started from a mere Hey, the deeper we dived Hey became a much smaller version of the masterpiece. In the poetry that is- life, I have realised love is not a verse, but rather it is the rhyming scheme but somehow in her poem it was but a verse. But as they say, ignorance is bliss, I did turn my attention to how perfectly her hair has been falling all this time. With days, and with months, strength came as a given but there was a verse that was still to be understood. And while I tried to unearth its meaning, i got so engrossed with my spade that she got further away. And till the time I had gathered all the meaning, she had gathered her bags. I could not believe the months had changed into hours and hours into seconds. And so did our relationship in a similar fashion. AS I stood on the crossroads, determined to cross the distance, she somehow vanished from sight and left me to get back to my rat race.

As I woke up at the sound of my Roll number being called, my lips turned into a curve as the realisation dawned that this would be more than a dream. An encounter which will be remembered for years together as this one didnt have the sound of a gun rather a beautiful recitation of the plunge into the poetry that is-Life. This will be a verse by verse detail of how the crossroads are mere illusions and how Love is nothing but infatuation, till you go the distance.

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