Recently,
I had one of the most simultaneously insightful and disheartening conversation
with a young adult. My cousin sister, all of 11 years, very earnest and equally
dramatic- in short a very accurate replica of my adolescent and to a large
extent current self sat me down (against my extreme protests, if I may add) for
a in her own words ‘intense philosophical discussion’. I could relate
instantly- ruchi is young, pretty ,sentimental, a decent student, if not a
great one, very gregarious around adults but incredibly reserved around her
peers and often feels the need to talk out her fears. She trusts
me instinctively because she is thankful that I treat like I would any
other “adult” and do not mock her somewhat skewed and morose views on life. She
is yet to learn that this is a strategy ( albeit an effective one) honed over
time which as she grows up shell learn to acquire as well
She
seemed a little sad at first. I mistook it for dramatics ( now which 11 year
old doesn’t like a little bit of attention huh?) but I was wrong and so much so
that it’ll be some time before I test my astute and self proclaimed psychic
abilities again. It started like most of my memorable conversations do -over a
book. This one being a book I had gifted to her on her birthday- diary of anne
frank. I have always wanted a sister and was instead blessed with a brother-
blessed being absolutely appropriate here but we are admittedly very different
and I have never connected with him or understood how one mother could produce
such scarily distinct personalities. He additionally doesn’t resemble in looks
or behavior either of my parents. But, adoption theories notwithstanding I
never question our differences just as I would never question my love for him
or our bond. But well, one does desire similar minded company once in a while.
And despite ruchi’s “tender” age, ive always warmed up to her opinions and
startlingly intuitive assessment of humans. Not very startling,personally,
since most of my own fortellings at this age had later come true. BUT back to
ruchi- she has the most angelic, poetic and all synonyms of beauty combined to
describe -face and yet has zero self awareness. The girl is truly special and
very very dear to me. She wears her heart on her sleeve and her emotions are easily
readable. I don’t like to press much but she had been quiet for a long time
after sitting me down on the bay window of her bedroom and fearing imminent
tears, I prodded- “you know you can talk to me ruchi” now ruchi has a lot
of faults but lack of courage is not one of them- she’s fiercly ungirly as she
less than eloquently frequently asserts and tears to her reflect weakness.
Even in her most angst filled days ive seen her bang around stuff but never
tears. she shook her head aggresively and began her largely one sided
discussion. You know di ( I love it when she calls me that, im a traditionalist
in certain ways and I prefer my younger friends and cousins addressing me as
didi) I just finished reading anne frank’s diary and the ending haunted
me for days- I felt so bad- I mean there really is no god you know in this
world not fair- all this came out in a passionate torrent of words interspersed
with the most hostile expression ive ever seen on her- an expression im only
too familiar with. I felt instantly guilty and te memory of the
effect the book had had on me came back to me rapidly. I was gifted the book by
my mother as a reward for being a wonderful and patient travel companion on a
Europe family trip when I was just a year younger than ruchi is now. It was at
Manchester airport and my mother had instructed me not to read it until after
the end of the vacation. She knew much of my reading happened at night She also
realized tat a book like this would keep me awake for days and my incessant
“discussions” and queries would ensure many sleepless nights for her as well.
But I was a curious child ( now a curious “semi” adult) and I read it anyway,
that very night but instead of going to my mother for comfort, incredibly
conflicted cried myself to sleep. Now ruchi resembles me in many
ways but she is seldom fearful. Nevertheless, she was conflicted just as I
had once been.
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