"You are such a hoarder"
Someone had told me once, and I agree. While
cleaning up the room today, I came across one such thing that I had hoarded
from a phase of my life which I have happily forgotten. The pale white paper
from a 'Personality Development' class I had taken 13 years ago. I remember not
wanting to take that class, but it was the only elective course where there was
no familiar face. The teacher was this 40-something lady with an ever-smiling
face and a very cheerful aura around her that had always made me uncomfortable.
When I think of that time, it feels almost impossible to even imagine myself
being that inherently introvert. I’d like to think I am still very introvert in
nature even today, but looking back at those years, it feels like I have
evolved so much.
Year – 2003, just one of those days
When the class started today, I thought it was
again going to be one of those days when we’ll be asked to pair up with someone
and do some stupid activity, and like every other time I’ll be left to the
mercy of Ms. Ansari to find me a partner. But today she came equipped with this
very peculiar assignment. We were asked to write a letter to a 30-year-old
ourselves. Of course it didn’t make sense to me, because I somehow thought I’ll
never reach that time, and will be consumed by the abyss that those two years
in the high school were. I felt really uncomfortable for two reasons – one, I
was extremely scared that I’ll be asked to read my letter out loud and I will
make a fool of myself, and two, I sucked at writing. I really did! However, Ms.
Ansari made it really easy for me when she said, “Just write those letters, you
don’t have to show it to anyone, you don’t have to submit the letters. I’ll not
read it, just write for yourself.” I felt so relieved. My immediate response
was ‘Well I don’t have to write at all, nobody will read it, nobody will find
out I never wrote any’. But the excitement I saw in my fellow students was
something alarming; they all set to writing it as soon as she had uttered the
word ‘Write’. I sat there blank for about 5 minutes, before the teacher handed
out a blank A4 to me, with a smiling face. She thought I didn’t have anything
to write on. I hated that moment, and then I started…
“Dear 30-year-old me,
I really hope you have improved your writing.
I really hope you have become a writer or a
journalist or something to do with writing. Please tell me you have published
at least one book! I hope you have and I hope it has done well. 30 is a long
time from now, so there’s a lot of time, please keep writing. You anyway suck
at everything else.
I really hope you did better in studies. Be above
average please, it feels bad to be just average. I hope Arts or Commerce has
proven to be the right choice, because you suck at Science.
I hope you finally have more friends than you
have right now (i.e. zero). I hope you don’t find it difficult to talk to
people anymore. I really hope you found many good friends. I loved it during
the middle school, so I hope you are living a similar life in the future.
I hope you did not get married at an early age.
Stick to the plan – finish your studies, find a well-paying job, and marry when
you’re all set. I think 28 is an okay age to be married, even if it’s late. So
if you got married at 28, I hope the last two years have been good. I hope you
don’t have kids yet – they are just so irritating.
I don’t expect that you’re living in Paris, but I
hope you have visited it at least.
I hope you read this and tick off all the above
from the checklist!
All the best!
-
14-year-old yourself”
--
Honestly, the original letter had such poor
grammar that I couldn’t make myself post the same, so I edited (but did not
change the content) the mistakes and this is what I sounded like. Such a sad
thing though, I’m two years away from 30, and I am nowhere close to where I
thought I’d be.
