Whatâ€™s with 23, you might be wondering.Â
Well, 23 is my friendâ€™s age as of today, whom I will call S. S and I have been childhood friends, we knew each other before we even knew our own names, we went to the same schools, the same college, our families are thick friends too. You get the picture, yeah.
So I was having this little chat with her the other day, when she told me, her parents are looking for a good boy to be her groom. As teenagers, when we started to understand how things worked out in this world, we had taken a conscious decision, of leaving the responsibility of finding a good husband in our parentsâ€™ hands, so much like the typical Indian daughter. It would be wrong to say that in this journey of 23 years, we have never ever wanted to waver from the decision we took for ourselves. There were guys, a lot of them, but there never was a boyfriend. Though I must say at this point that my dear S had her fair share of adventures, went around with a couple of guys but then, she sobered down in the process of growing up. I would never blame her, as the guys found her irresistible; she was a smart, beautiful girl who had a distinct aura about her.
Our little conversation happened to remind me of my own birthday, I had just turned 23 a couple of months ago. I wonder how the whole exercise of going over the profiles of prospective grooms, to finally choosing one person who seems to fit the bill, hoping against hope that he is the one, would go for me. Â
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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.