<p>Having always had the ‘Peter Pan’ syndrome, my metamorphosis from adolescence to adulthood was far from easy. I don’t think I had ever envisioned life beyond that of a teenager. It wasn’t wild as you might by now be presuming but simply attending school/ college, studying, naïve hangouts with friends (no drinks, drugs or rock n’ roll for me please), wearing stylish dungarees...an occasional movie maybe.<br /><br />Stepping into 20s sent me into a tizzy -- I was unable to come to terms with the world as it appeared to me now -- cold, hard-boiled, hypocritical and commercialised. Every action it seemed to me was motivated not by sheer pleasure but by ulterior motive of gains. Namma Bengaluru of which I had been genuinely fond of started seeming like a sterile, austere city which served to catalyse the innate South Indian reserve I decided I was born with. <br /><br />The friends I had been to college with were now dispersed and only existed in the virtual world of Facebook. The much cherished overalls had been outgrown and presently feed moths in the cupboard. The last of familiar cinema theatres had been demolished; watching movies in malls didn’t hold the same chutzpah.<br /><br />The quickly changing dimensions of the city furthered the feelings of loss that I already experienced. The shortcomings of my childhood idols and ideals were only too apparent and I no longer loved anyone -- this realisation came as a jolt of great magnitude to me, as I had generally felt much affection for my homo-sapien ilk for the major part of my life. People seemed like automatons and the cosmos seem to be persevering to alienate me from itself.<br /><br />One evening in the park did I share space with a stranger. After a heavy jog, the athletic young woman sat beside me, a co-stranger, without the trademark hesitation or inhibition that Indians usually sport. Neither of us felt any compulsion to talk but savoured the beauty of nature together, in quiet ease, like old bench buddies. Suddenly, there was a sense of déjà vu. This particular evening in the park, did I feel a part of the universal whole.</p>
<p>Having always had the ‘Peter Pan’ syndrome, my metamorphosis from adolescence to adulthood was far from easy. I don’t think I had ever envisioned life beyond that of a teenager. It wasn’t wild as you might by now be presuming but simply attending school/ college, studying, naïve hangouts with friends (no drinks, drugs or rock n’ roll for me please), wearing stylish dungarees...an occasional movie maybe.<br /><br />Stepping into 20s sent me into a tizzy -- I was unable to come to terms with the world as it appeared to me now -- cold, hard-boiled, hypocritical and commercialised. Every action it seemed to me was motivated not by sheer pleasure but by ulterior motive of gains. Namma Bengaluru of which I had been genuinely fond of started seeming like a sterile, austere city which served to catalyse the innate South Indian reserve I decided I was born with. <br /><br />The friends I had been to college with were now dispersed and only existed in the virtual world of Facebook. The much cherished overalls had been outgrown and presently feed moths in the cupboard. The last of familiar cinema theatres had been demolished; watching movies in malls didn’t hold the same chutzpah.<br /><br />The quickly changing dimensions of the city furthered the feelings of loss that I already experienced. The shortcomings of my childhood idols and ideals were only too apparent and I no longer loved anyone -- this realisation came as a jolt of great magnitude to me, as I had generally felt much affection for my homo-sapien ilk for the major part of my life. People seemed like automatons and the cosmos seem to be persevering to alienate me from itself.<br /><br />One evening in the park did I share space with a stranger. After a heavy jog, the athletic young woman sat beside me, a co-stranger, without the trademark hesitation or inhibition that Indians usually sport. Neither of us felt any compulsion to talk but savoured the beauty of nature together, in quiet ease, like old bench buddies. Suddenly, there was a sense of déjà vu. This particular evening in the park, did I feel a part of the universal whole.</p>
