Is this for real?
Foreword: No, I am not thinking about the arguments against gun control, gay marriage or, closer home, investigating the 2G spectrum allocation scam. I'm thinking about life- mine to be precise. Because I still don't give a fuck about you.
Sachin Tendulkar turned forty. Do you even know what that means? That means I am now closer to being forty than ever before. So much so, that it does not seem an improbable future event anymore. Everything I wanted to say about that has already been said- very eloquently in some places- so I will say no more. Except that I understand and identify with every thought in that article. Every single thought.
It is difficult to separate the mundane from the exceptional in your own life because you are the one living it- it is hard to step back and look at the higher level developments when you are busy living the incremental day. Therefore, when hallmarks around us change, we are forced to take notice and try to make sense of what it means- to us, of us. Did I realize how much time has passed? Sure, at a superficial level you always knew what year it was, but do you really know what that means in terms of, well, life? I have been married for one year today and I have no fucking idea how that happened. You put one foot after the next and soon enough you're up to your neck in freaking shoes.
The point that spooks me out is that there never was a hard date when I had to stop being a kid. I feel afraid to admit it, but I didn't. I was- still am- expecting some kind of an official looking envelope to show up one fine day with a couple of badly typed sheets in officious language like you would expect from a government office. It would have another sombre looking accompaniment, a cloth bound booklet of the rules of adult behavior listing carefully what you could and couldn't do. It would likely also have a penal code in appendix 3, which would spell out what you could face if you stumbled. So I'd like to come out right now and state that I never received that package. I'm assuming everybody else did- because how else do you explain that no one talks about their teddy bear?
Sachin Tendulkar turned forty. Do you even know what that means? That means I am now closer to being forty than ever before. So much so, that it does not seem an improbable future event anymore. Everything I wanted to say about that has already been said- very eloquently in some places- so I will say no more. Except that I understand and identify with every thought in that article. Every single thought.
It is difficult to separate the mundane from the exceptional in your own life because you are the one living it- it is hard to step back and look at the higher level developments when you are busy living the incremental day. Therefore, when hallmarks around us change, we are forced to take notice and try to make sense of what it means- to us, of us. Did I realize how much time has passed? Sure, at a superficial level you always knew what year it was, but do you really know what that means in terms of, well, life? I have been married for one year today and I have no fucking idea how that happened. You put one foot after the next and soon enough you're up to your neck in freaking shoes.
The point that spooks me out is that there never was a hard date when I had to stop being a kid. I feel afraid to admit it, but I didn't. I was- still am- expecting some kind of an official looking envelope to show up one fine day with a couple of badly typed sheets in officious language like you would expect from a government office. It would have another sombre looking accompaniment, a cloth bound booklet of the rules of adult behavior listing carefully what you could and couldn't do. It would likely also have a penal code in appendix 3, which would spell out what you could face if you stumbled. So I'd like to come out right now and state that I never received that package. I'm assuming everybody else did- because how else do you explain that no one talks about their teddy bear?
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