That little thing called ‘Change’

Today when I was with one of colleague, way back to my room which consists of 4 walls and a loo, around 8:30 pm which is way early compared to my office timing standards, I realised something. I realised that I am now a big boy. Not a boy but a man. I hate that.

I want to relive my childhood when I was carefree, used to play cricket. I know that my present friends will never believe that I used to play and follow Indian cricket like a maniac because presently I cannot even name 5 cricketers in the present Indian squad except for Sachin, the God. I used to feel restless if I didn’t go out on a particular evening with my neighbourhood friends with bat and ball. Although I wore specs at that time also but I never felt it as a hindrance to my athletic endeavours. I used to crave for watching TV and nearly begged and cried to my parents to get us a cable connection. I admit I was a stealer. I used to steal few bucks every day from my dad’s pocket to buy Boomer or BigBabol. I got a hard beating for getting caught, twice. I was stubborn. I am. I used to follow Shaktimaan and his ‘choti choti magar moti baatein’ religiously. I used to get scared after watching ‘Ahaat’ but wasn’t able to stop myself to get a glimpse of it, as I used to sleep alone in a room.

I want to relive my teenage when I was The Dude. My bicycle was the fastest vehicle ever made and I loved it more when it flew past the vehicles with a couple of more tyres. I used to look at girls in our school as well as in the buses of other schools. I used to wear elastic pants (I called them pants not trousers) and a spectacle rope or loop around my neck to prevent it from falling (I hate my parents’ sense of fashion). When filling up a girl’s slam book was the only thing. When I used to worship Sharukh Khan (I do it now too). I got a serious rebuke from my parents when they caught me writing a love letter for my friend (he insisted me) the night before my computers examination. BTW I scored 99/100 in that.. :). I hated the first guy in the class and the second guy was my best friend. I was third.

Now I am a big tough guy. I live independently in a metro. Work in an MNC. Earn handsomely. I pay my own bills and rent. I travel alone. I have fun with my friends. I visit home occasionally, to be treated like a king. I take responsibilities. Decide my life and others’ on my own. Meet deadlines, ensure quality. Get frustrated over my job and plan a new way, every day, to switch to other job or go for further education. I smoke. I drink. I pretend to be intellectual and knowledgeable. I have a girlfriend. I had sex. Travelled to different cities. Flew a couple of times and spent my own money. Saved enough to buy me this laptop and get a net connection. Started blogging. I go to gym. I eat consciously and get frustrated when I don’t get a good night sleep before and after a long day of work. I watch a lot of English movies and listen to angrezi songs. I miss home food. I still watch girls, they are irresistible (of course with a sense fo guilt.. :)).

I realised in the lift that only one thing in this life is constant. And that little thing, my friend, is called ‘change’.

Advertisements

3 Comments

Filed under childhood, job, life, love, memories, nostalgia, teenage

3 responses to “That little thing called ‘Change’

  1. when i was reading this story …i just thought about my childhood also …i keep it going ..n we will revisit our memory lane …..

    its a good 1 i lyk this very much …waitin 4 another 1 ….

  2. Andy

    Loved it keep’em coming 🙂

  3. aryA

    ” I realised in the lift that only one thing in this life is constant “…
    I thought you’d say ” watching girls ” next.. You disappointed me….

    I miss it too.. my Avon cycle.. real hardy..

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s