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From A Shy Kid to an Outgoing Teenager ..

 To An Exuberant Stranger & Genuine True Friend But a Quiet Muser

 This poem carries a story behind it.. 🙂

 In my Life You came in like a butterfly
A quick & fresh & lovely passerby
And what you said all this while
Was just Hey! Hello, Hi & Bye..

I am the flower of a quiet garden
Fragrant & bold yet still confined
Flowers are not just (on their own) beautiful
They are made to feel alive by people People like U

~ the honeybees & butterflies
Just the same as the high dry empty lonely sky
Is made to fel bright and alight by a samll visitor,
The soaring Kite. I am unable to express my Joy;
I daren’t even breath or sigh, Oh! Boy..
I fear you may scare away
Leaving my life on a lonely path to stray  

Just as the fluttering of the wings
of the butterfly singing, wandering, humming
brings the flower to blush & bloom
coming out of its closed world of gloom
So do your happy whispers in my ears
this blow of breath, from you, my lover,
sends ripples in my heart & shivers
raining down the spine, leaving me in sighs
so does your every word that falls
like a curtain of verse before my eyes. 

This was My first Poem from my personal Diary that I dared share with Mom! Although mom had alwayz known that I write (she wrote too), and encouraged me, infact she was instrumental in developing & giving fire to my artisitc bent of mind, to help me vent my energy, and infact, very disappointed by the fact that I had to write a poem with 10000 words that could rather be summed up in prhps a 100.. Though she had read my very first poem, stories, articles, satires, humourous anecdotes (real & imaginary), she never knew about what I wrote in my diary (a personal blog, not my poetry note-book) because she strongly believed in giving me my personal space and never wanted to intrude those little secrets so dear to a girlie growing & observing in sheer excitement what was new to her. Mom wanted me to see & learn from my own eyes , through my own observation than as something imposed on me. that gave me the courage to share with her, what was the most intimate to me at that point of time, often ending in her laughing out loud at her daughter’s cute or silly or prhps intelligent observation. And even in awe of her baby, her kid having become so wise with time..

So, when I shared this poem with her, she not only smiled a lot, but also praised me for the beauty that lay in this poem of mine. Later, as I grew, she started staying very upset with the increasing melancholy, goth & mention of the dilemma of life & death in my poems. That extremely disturbed her.. but I believe, that is a passing phase with every teenager who is coming to terms with life at their own terms.. seeing it with a very disillusioned point of view, unable to do much except mock at its tyranny, their only escape is through verses that seem to mock the very base of life, God. They apparently worship Satan, which is not true. With time, they grow up wiser & better-abled to cope with life’s struggles.

Anyway, cutting short my Philo on why most people turn to gothic stuff at a point of time in their lives, here is something I wrote in class IX for a real first-time”crush”..  & mom knew it, but instead of reprimanding me, she just very softly, conveniently , without making it obvious, dropped stories to warn me in her own sweet ways, that if we crossed any limits that kids should, while interacting as friends.. what consequences life could lead to.. I understood always.. I was a very obedient daughter..  It was only with a passage of time, I grew a little defiant..

Anyhow, this poem was immensely liked by her coz she saw a lot of positive content in it, happiness, cheer & butterflies, birds, gardens & kites were our favourite muses for embroidery, painting & for creating anything in craft.. coz they symbolised colour, vividness, gaiety, freshness, and of course.. Liberation.. freedom.. expression of self!  

I also learnt, that guys who flirt become passing phases.. and the guys who quietly listen to U, your exuberation, exhilaration or ravings and rantings are the guys who stay with you for long, but whether in real life or in memories, that is for time to decide..
Now as the poem stays my favourite till date, my only poem whose lines I remember (the rest I never ever do! ) 

I grew with the poem, and the poem grew with me, residing in my heart & the sentiment it carried.. and then , for the first time I truly fell in Love, was when these lines hummed themselves back to me.. the first few lines..
So here I am, with that little poem of mine that caries a big senti story ..
 Staring into the empty space, My mind goes back to those class XI school days..
Days of laughter & friendship & fun, No one to fear except a rare teacher..
and while days of anxiety were one thousand one, times of sorrow were none.

The things last on the mind, to be done on the nick of time, were always between Project reviews to exam previews; While first on the agenda was labeling
Nicknames to last benchers and most hated teachers. 

Farewell rehearsals to love proposals, Short-term crushes to classroom blushes occupied the most of our time, MY time. Chatting & laughing, We all were in elation, Till the painful moments of separation, When it was time to part,We returned with a heavy heart. 

That is the time we call A moment never to be forgotten yet they fade ever so slowly & slightly from our memories. We promise each other that will always remember this era with eyes soaked in tears, yet, in the daily rut, we hardly recall, what it was all about, except for one random incident or two. Now we stand in a place without a name, And life’s changing like a game. 

But as they say Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining, So, what if HELLOS ARE HARDER THAN GOODBYES??
We have some more years for this type of running. Say hello to Colleagues and forget the GOODBYE.
Life ahead is full of challenges, commitments and too many worries.
So cherish these moments and instill them in your memories !heheheh..  

Although there is a lot that I can write here, and maybe, someday I’ll update this post with how different I was as a kid and as a teenager to finally becoming the woman I am, (replete with my college & hostel experiences), right now, I will merely post a few select growing up moments of my life as an adoloscent because I belive, adoloscent years are when we exactly break out of moulds to begin the process of metamorphosis, isnt it? :):) Though, I have read thinkers who say that that is the time of life when our personalities start taking shape.. and we become what we truely are today… yet, I dont agree with that completely. Not really is taht the case with me.. My life tells me, what we are today, comes much later.. although the foundation stone is indeed laid in our kindergarten years (what we call sanskaars & etiquetts) , it is  putting into practice what we learnt into schools & colleges ( when we step into the world of cut-throat competition in job scenarios) and realise, that the learning actually comes from within.. no one can really teach us how to survive! it is how well we learn that art of survival of the fittest and the smartest 😉 You can argue that every-one survives one way or the other, but how we end up surviving is decided in adolescence itself.. what we learn in the world is knowledge and experience but what we learn as kids is instinct, that is what stays with us along our lives; whereas our knowledge and experience keep evolving.. these  things can just curb our instincts, not change them…

To this, I can merely say: To each, his own life’s exposure. It really is a very personal growth process, isnt it?  

The Past Left Behind..

Incidentally, today, I am neither a part of the alumni association of my school nor in touch with any of my school-mates except a random one or two whom I never was really fond of. But whenever I Do come across my old classmates, its alwayz them who are prompt in recognizing me, telling me that I have an unforgettable face,and me fumbling to recall their name or justifying the reason for the familiarity of their face. I grin & act as if I too remember exactly who they are and after a hug, peck and exchange of numbers (I alwayz make them save their number for me so as to save myself from the embarassing situation of asking for their name, or politely ask abt their marital status and what do they write their name as now).

Do drop in for a read of: Reflections Of Time Pic(kl)ed & Bottled 🙂 ~

https://puplumages.wordpress.com/2010/06/14/reflections-of-time-pickled-bottled/

&

Colourful Reflections Of Time Pic(kl)ed & Bottled 😉 ~

https://puplumages.wordpress.com/2010/06/19/colourful-reflections-of-time-pickled-bottled/