I was running after my cousin... she took my Barbie. She was running so fast that I couldn't catch up to her. But I wanted my Barbie back; it one was one of my favorites. I was running as fast as I could...
She took a turn to the left and got inside of a house. Suddenly I heard someone calling out my name. I stopped and turned but nobody was there. I was so tired from all the running that I waited for few seconds closed my eyes and took a deep breath. But when I opened my eyes, I was in a different world... the world of reality.
“So, I was dreaming then?” I asked myself lying on my bed. It was an odd dream, but it was still incredible... It was of my childhood.
It was a different world altogether. One with no worries. The only times I got worried was when I was worrying who took my toys, why someone did not take me in their game and how I would get scolded by a teacher for not doing my homework.
Now I know that life back then was like a dream. There were no worries; there wasn't anything important to do, no responsibilities… just sleeping, eating, playing, and doing tiring homework with Maa.
Life's so weird… and yet so wonderful. As we come across each new stage of life we realize how beautiful life was before… back in my childhood, my teenage life.
Each stage of life is different from the other. Like in childhood, we only had headaches about playing and going to places with our parents; fighting with elder/younger brother/sister and then later getting scolded or beaten up by Maa, and then Baba to the rescue.
Now in teenage life… teens now are mostly attracted to the Internet, telephones and friends. They’re always chatting and meeting strangers from overseas and making them friends, browsing websites, etc. Whenever offline, they get stuck on the phone. Talking about parties or hangouts; or which class they might bunk the next day at school, gossiping about different topics, sometimes backbiting about their irritating classmates. Without chatting or gossiping over phone, a teenager's day was impossible to pass. And those were the best ways to get the parents angry.
I wonder how I made friends with total strangers back when I was a teenager myself. How did I possibly gossip so much on the phone? How was I so patient? How did I have so much time? Back then I, myself, used to be on the phone for hours. I mean being an adult I won't get the time now because life is so different. I won't feel like being on the phone for hours. Life has taken a different turn. I won't be considered as a kid anymore. I am a grown-up to the world now, except for my parents. No matter how old I get, I will still be their little daughter Nolok. Everybody is like “you are a grown-up now. So get-over doing/saying silly stuffs.” I don't like that. I like to be silly sometimes…I just want to be a teenager again. Well, I wish I could be, or you know, like Bryan Adams says, “wanna be 18 till I die...”
When I think back about my teen years, I remember the thousands of wrong steps I've taken, especially about of studies. I did many things, which, if I had the option now, I would definitely not do. Most of the mistakes I made were to not listen to my parents. I made many of my decisions by myself, giving some logical excuses… yet when I think about them now, they just doesn't seem right.
I can't go back to my past. So what's the benefit realizing now what I did was wrong? Would I show the next generation what is right and what is wrong? Aren't they going to do the same… just like we did? They are going to come up with the same excuses and we will have to listen to them like just our parents did. But, even our parents got to admit that they also did lots of wrong things in their past by giving lame excuses to their parents… just like we did. Just like you are doing now.
The same mistakes. Over and over. I think it goes on like this… Some sort of "cycle of life."
I actually wrote this article because I miss being a teenager. I know my advice won't work as we all are more or less the same, but still I would like to say something.
Think deeply about your future before taking any major steps. Otherwise you will be sorry later… the way I am now. And don't do anything that will eventually force you to change yourself.
By Nashita Nasim (Nolok)
The commodious lounge of the Adam's family was crowded with family members. Their faces seemed impassive, but their hearts were pervaded by a poignant pain.
It was snowing outside and all was dull and darker than ever, with only some rays of faint sunlight glimmering in the snow. Although the crackling fire in the parlour's grate impeded the freezing cold and kept them ensconced in a cosy surrounding, their hearts were already in the depths of despair.
It was Wenstay, the teenage daughter of the Adams family, who had been missing for over a week. There were rumours fleeting everywhere, but no one was sure why she had left home. Only Frederick Adams, the girl's father, knew why.
Mr. Adams was engrossed in reminiscing his monotonous past, as he went back twelve years ago, when he had divorced his first wife Danielle. She had given birth to Wenstay just three years before that. She couldn't quite accustom herself with the family traditions of the Adams, and the growing conflicts between them had eventuated into their divorce. Mr. Adams had kept Wenstay with him and told her that her mother had died when she gave birth to her. Mr. Adams had remarried and Wenstay had begun to lead a solitary life. But the inevitable happened at last, as she came to know that her mother wasn't dead after all. Her surreptitious queries and other things didn't go unnoticed in Mr. Adam's percipient eyes.
Mr. Adams stretched out his legs and straightened his back. The situation intensified as a dead silence permeated the lounge.” I assume I've to tell you all about this,” he began in a monotonous tone as all the family members incredulously stared at him, trying to fathom what was going to be revealed next.
Wenstay Adams' hazel eyes were fixed at the intricate laceworks of the resplendent carpet, her face weaved with anticipation.
Her hands were clutched tightly around her bag and her lips were quivering slightly. She had found out the greatest truth of her life, the truth which her father had tried all his life to fallaciously contradict. She sat silently in the couch, waiting with tremendous apprehension.
A middle-aged woman entered the parlour, rubbing her hands in an apron, prompting Wenstay to stand up. Her wispy fringe was stuck to her perspiring forehead, and her half-moon spectacles couldn't conceal the hazel in her eyes.
“Who are you, my young girl?” she inquired and Wenstay felt her heart palpitating as she trembled” Mum….mum, I am Wenstay,” she paused as the woman's eyes widened disbelievingly,' ….your daughter.” The heavy words finally escaped her throat. Words had never been enough to express how the mother the mother and daughter embraced and shed tears from the same deep hazel eyes.
It was another snowy morning when Wenstay returned. Everyone was fearing the wrath of Fredrick Adams; the family members couldn't believe that Wenstay had come back to face the infuriated face of her father; no girl had ever violated their family traditions in such a way. Mr. Adams was sitting in the armchair when Wenstay trudged towards him. “Father….” Wenstay's words were stopped as Mr.Adams stood up abruptly, and then incredibly, he knelt down and clutched her daughter's arms, “Will you ever forgive me, my daughter?” he implored.
By The Raconteur
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