Found this draft after a long time…the time-stamp says I had saved it in the exact moment I turned twenty four (12:01am on 16th August to be very precise). Completed it today, though.
Dear Thirty Year Old Me,
Hope you’re doing well, alive and kicking, with major organs in proper working condition . I at least hope you haven’t gone slightly deaf because of all the hours you spent on the phone and with your ipod earphones plugged to your ears all the time(…so much that there were times you wished they would just grow out of your ears), and yeah, I hope you are not grossly overweight with three chins instead of one ( or that you don’t have arms so fat you sometimes confuse them for your thighs).
You must be married by now, unless you’d changed your extremely whimsical mind about it sometime in the years between the time you were twenty three and now. I hope your husband is doing well, cause he sure has my due sympathies. Between your mood swings and smothering expressions of both love and hatred the poor guy must have it pretty tough all the time. And kids? You have any? I hope they are not spoiled pampered brats who think they can walk all over you all the time. I mean, I’m sure its either that or they are these nervous terrified wreck of kids because of all the things you expect from them…I’m sure the first thing you must have told them was “Ok kids, no pressure, but you have to be good in studies, learn how to sing and dance, know how to be good conversationalists…plus you gotta read the right books, have great taste in music, have a knack for languages…ok that’s all. No pressures, ok? Mommy just wants you to be good in everything you do, or she’ll never accept you as her kids.” And what about a job? I hope by now you have finally figured out what will make you happy….and I hope for Heaven’s sake you are doing it now!! So what about the creche you dreamt of having? Or did it remain just that, a pipe dream?
Hey hey, sorry if I am being a little harsh on you….all I wanted to say was just this. It is okay. Everything is. You see I might be twenty three, but I do know the way thinks could be when you are thrity. I mean, yeah, by now it must be pretty screwed up inside your head (you had a tendency towards that from quite an early age, by the way), but maybe I just want you to remember the way you were when you were my age.
You were a dreamer….one whose dreams were a whimsical kaleidoscope of unrealistic visions based on nothing more than feelings and instincts. I earnestly hope its still that way for you. That you still have dreams you want to make true…that you haven’t let that crazy romantic inside you die. And I seriously hope laughing comes as easily to you as it did before. Do you still groove when you hear good beats? No matter where you are? It wouldn’t do for you, of all people, to become conscious of what others think of you. You used to talk just so much! So much that people around you used to wonder how you could come up with so many stories about the simplest things. You still have loads to say, don’t you? Because that means that you’re still putting them down in words….typing your heart out like you used to love to. And that just means you have been able to make one of your favorite pet dreams come true. Remember the picture you had painted for yourself? The one with the sunlight flooded room and the window facing desk with your laptop in front of you and good music blasting from your boom-boom speakers and the half-finished cup of coffee next to you? Come to think of it (or blame my movie-fogged mind) I wonder now if you see the kids playing in the yard from that very window…
You’d wanted to learn many languages….and you’d wanted to learn how to play the drums…and you’d wanted your all-girls band to go places. And remember you’d wanted to do a three year graduation in Psychology AFTER you were already a Physics graduate just so you could do your masters in psychological counseling and become a counselor? You’d wanted to be so many things at once it was confusing at times whether you were talking about this one life. And somehow even that didn’t seem to be a problem when you were twenty three.
Enough of that… Just wanted to know how you are. Do you still smell good? Have you managed to grow your hair long? For once do you look younger than your sister six years older than you? Please please don’t tell me you’ve ended up looking like Mamma after all, like everybody predicted you would. Are the laughter lines around your eyes more prominent now? Do they make you older than you really are, or do they add to the “i-carry-sunshine-with-me”
Whatever be it….just wanted to tell you that I love you no matter what. How can I not, when you are a figment of my own imagination now? Have faith, you’re doing fine. And I know even if things don’t go according to plan (for the simple lack of a plan more often than not!), you will find a way. Take care, Thirty year old me….and be happy, for my sake, if not for yours.