Adulthood, just charming.

Did you always want to be grown up while you were young? To be taken seriously, to not be answerable, to not have to ask for that extra cookie, or get someone else to buy you something you’ve always wanted?

Yup we all did. But, I’m wondering is it normal for those of us who were in such grave hurry to hang our diapers, wanting to take to the pacifier again? Have somebody else make the decisions for us. Especially the hard ones. Why didn’t anybody tell me growing up was not about being able to eat pizza when its not the weekend, lying in bed for those extra minutes in the morning. It was not about going to the movies on a working night, or about being able to step out of the house without telling someone, even if it was a trip to the grocer. It was not about late night phone conversations or the sleep overs. Growing up was simply not the bed of roses it looked like and I’d appreciate if somebody had told me that.

No one said you’d be accountable for your actions. Those that you make. And even those that you don’t. You’d be responsible for not only yours but one day, somebody else’s actions too.
I’ve had a fortunate & sheltered life, thus not much to complain about. But one of the trivial things that did bother me was curfews, not being able to stay out longer, or talk to boys, or wax. Like my other normal friends. Never imagining that there would actually come a day when the choice to stay home, in front of the TV for hours watching episode after episode of my favorite escapism, in solitary confinement, would be a choice I made.

I for one was in a big hurry to grow up and not be accountable to anybody. And as I grew up, others stopped questioning me. But with that, a new search started within, empty answers with no questions. And this was all with me, which made it even more difficult.

It does feel good to be able to do everything that makes you happy. But you’re also the one responsible for bringing the tears. I’m not sure if I would be so uncomfortable pinning someone else as a reason for my miseries. Not that it’s a very grown up and mature thing to do, but making choices for yourself can be hard and the excess baggage cant be paid for.

I believe you don’t make choices out of experience but experience comes from the choices you make. But here’s the hard part, sometimes even experience can’t stop you from making the same mistakes again.

You’re responsible for the friends you make, for the people you fall in love with, for the hearts you break. Even those that break yours, you choose them!
I hated it when my dad would just say ‘no’ and the conversation was dismissed. Somehow being resentful made things easier. But ever since things changed to ‘it’s your choice and you have to make that decision’, it sucks, because suddenly I’ve become responsible for the outcome. The good and the bad. Some you learn to live with, some you learn to let go. But you mostly try and learn as you go along.

However, there is this one thing that hasn’t changed with growing up. I still like surprises, especially if they have to do with a birthday party. There’s no shallowness in equating the number of people on the guest list to the number of presents I’ll get. That’s a choice I’m happy to make.

Dobai my phoren land

There was a time when Dubai as a destination was inspirational. Many movies, travel blogs, Picasa web albums, had pages dedicated to this destination of wonders.
Holidaying here was like traveling to the exotic bend of the earth. The sun kissed beaches, the shopping ecstasy, the night life, the architecture, the camels…all of it!

Indian movies largely glorified this, god’s favorite city. Whether it was a tight tuxedo clad mafia don directing his steal or people looking for a job, leaving their home, mother’s feet, a thali with tikka/diya behind, they all had one destination – Dobai (spelt for effect).

This was of course before Yash Raj and Karan Johar showed us otherwise. Where smoldering dream sequences in à la mode chiffon saris amidst sand storms seemed unattractive as compared to snogging amidst the Swiss Alps. When watching your favorite actress jogging along the Thames made the script more credible than jogging along the creek. New York and Switzerland soon became the new Dobai. You could no longer, with your peers, sit proudly through movies identifying landmarks that you lived or worked ‘just around’.

There also existed a time when you waited for 9 pm or Fridays to talk for a few minutes longer on an ISD because the mercy of discounted rates dictated terms (I.S.D : International Subscriber Dialling is the term used to describe an international telephone call dialled by the caller rather than going via an operator.)

But today, thanks to Skype, Etisalat and DU one can enjoy special packages to ‘a favorite country’ where you can talk for 1.27 Dhs per minute and other such nonsense!
Don’t mean to sound ungrateful but Fridays are no longer eagerly awaited for (still in the context of an ISD). Now, just pick up the phone…dial a pizza, or make an international call to hear agonizing stories about your mother’s neighbours, their neighbours relatives or the street dog ‘Tommy’.

Along with India’s booming economy, international calls from India (to Dubai) have also become cheaper. Along with it cheapened the ability of my friends, to relish my anticipated weekend calls. I enjoyed being able to make someone feel special with my occasional long international chats. But those times are long gone. Now THEY call randomly, at even more random hours, talk for hours, and what’s worse - they don’t hesitate even once before putting me on hold ‘Tch, wait ya..I’m getting another call…let me just tell them I’m with you na’. Left there waiting, listening to ‘The hutch mobile customer you’ve called has put you on hold’ I can’t help but think to myself, what happened to the novelty of an international call?

I’m still stuck in the phase, where you’d drop everything else because you’re getting ‘a call’. When you could make out the importance of a call, just by its distinct ring tone (there actually was a time when the ring of an international call on your landline was very different!). When the pitch of ‘Halloooo’ had to be really loud as you waited patiently for the time lagged response. When all this excitement and bad network only sent your pulse and pitch racing higher.

I have to hide my disappointment sometimes when I call friends only to hear ‘the Vodafone customer you’re trying to reach is currently on another call. Please hold or call back later’. I have to stop myself from following this with a sms saying ‘Pick up! this is an ISD - ‘It’s Special you Dumbfuck!’

They’ll call back I know. Unapologetically. They always do. One day I’ll learn that an international call is no longer a big deal. That day I’ll also learn to ‘Chill ya!’