Box of Childhood

There is this big Bilt copier cardboard box in front of me. It is filled with my old school texts and stuff, so I thought. Parents were asking me time and again to see what texts I need from it and what I should donate away. I didn't want to. I have this thing with keeping my old stuff too. The idea of donating in Sulliya made me really want to do it.

So there, I open my box. First thing I see is a translucent plastic file filled with papers. One of them was a simple hand written birthday scroll, other a very beautiful handmade birthday card. No one knew how much personally made stuff meant to me. I always thought they have put some of their energy in it to create something for me. And that I found beautiful.It didn't make me nostalgic, but it did manage to make me smile. It still holds now.

When I was putting my books back I saw a huge brown diary which I instantly recognized as my first ever diary. There were so many warnings on the first page. Surprisingly the warnings were written politely, requesting actually, but to show the fierceness "grr" was added at the end. I couldn't help laughing at the me then. I was such a kid. A cute one. I read my first entry. It was simple day in my life when I was 12. Small sentences, small grammatical errors, minor complains which were actually nothing at all. The way I put things in simplest way, "I don't like..." Period. No ifs and buts. Still it was funny to read it, "Mother scolded me today, and I didn't understand why. I was just playing on the computer!"  D

I might have not known what passion is then, maybe I couldn't actually name it when I was 12, I just thought it was "a craze" when I sort of grew out of it. Now when I look back, it was complete crazy passion. One diary separate for "Fight Against Crime", one separate for "My story" an attempt to write, another for, "Harry Potter" my hero back then aka Daniel Radcliffe (now me: really!!?!!). The craze was so insane that there were minute details I had copied and written, or pasted the articles I had found. I remembered how I would look for the articles, wait for parents to finish reading the paper, ask if they are done and snip snip snip. :) It was fun. I used to enjoy doing it too. Never EVER got bored of it, or postponed it. Would so totally get lost in it. I don't know how I grew out of it. It's still there, just it's way more complicated now I guess :P

I didn't even have the heart to throw away my painfully carefully and artfully made Genetics notes. I was so crazy about it. I still can't throw or give it away. I may not understand or remember the terms now, still, it has my passion and energy embedded in it. I cannot let it go. :) My English notebook and the silly assignments. The chemistry book which Mr. Sallauddin Uncle had given for my craze for Genetics (he hoped I'll get into biochem :D), Dr. Mundhada's parting book present on Genetics (Genome), it was widely known about my craze/passion. Even about me wanting to be a cop. My two small FBI badges reading: Agent Shenoy. I just couldn't let go of the dream of cop till now :D It was my fun world. World where I wanted this, and I was passionate about it. Whatever small thing. Its still there, just that its little difficult to figure out what I exactly want now. Now I want the bestest of the best and I want everything. I want to be everything. That is crazy. But hey, its still me :P

My slam books. I was surprised with the types of friends I had then. I mean, now I wouldn't even talk to half of their kinds. Or all of their kinds. I've grown so much. It was interesting. Comfort with one person meant that person was my best friend. That was so silly. Now it seems silly. I was a kid obviously. But I did know what I wanted. Exactly. :)

My favorite poem on smile, my MC script for teacher's day (cos I had loved the poem), it was interesting to go through it. So light and so wonderful. Maybe when I grow up more, and I look back at this day i.e today, I might be smiling even more, sharing all this with my guy. Introducing him to an interesting child in a much more interesting world of hers, locked to others. True her, shared only with a few.

And the most interesting thing is, she is still me.
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