Expectations were nurtured, dreams went unfulfilled ambitions were cultivated, and later dismissed relationships flourished, only to be chucked away in a bin People showered concern, but to quell the flare of jealousies and curiosities. I don39t exactly remember the face or the voice that first got us acquainted with those unacceptable words of wisdom, but 11th B of batch 2010 BBPS, was the lucky recipient of the disillusioning gumption. quot You will know when you leave school. It39s not as easy as it is made out to be.quot For years I have grappled with uncertainties that revolved around the apparently incongruous thought. I would be the same, I had thought. I would meet people who would be like my school friends, because school people are supposed to be nice, and warm.They are nice and warm, actually.I couldn39t see why the new-lings would be any different, considering the wondrous genes that flow through every person who spends 14 years in its delightful slavery. That was indeed a gripping thought then. And now. Growing up. It wasn39t supposed to be scary, or disenchanting. One wrong move, and you wouldn39t even know what you would be construed as. What had happened to the 39school39 thing From where did the paranoia creep in And the meanness Had I dozed off in a slumber when people around were transitioning into self-loving creatures Or was I wide awake, devastatingly swaying with the cold winds of of the gruesome change myself It39s a pity. When I see certain things being synonymous with selfishness and mistrust, I sense an uncanny change. And that39s probably where I realize that maybe, I have changed too. Growing up. It39s when you are about to turn 22, are still unplaced Yay. Go BPIT., or worse, deep down, don39t feel even terrible about it unlike other unplaced lot because all that you want is to live a little more before the ruthless competition and the 39bad, bad world39 grasps you in its clutches, you might as well know that you are trying to put at hold, an inevitable phenomenon. I, for one, would rather 39grow39 in the little space that I have carved out for myself, than being exposed to the twirling fumes of the competitive air. I can sleep all day, watch English serials, read, write, dance. Dance, yeah. I callously gave up on my dance, an activity I cherish the most, for a thing I don39t even want now. Well, because latter, no matter how repulsive I find it, is a necessity to survive in the 39bad, bad world39. And dance, well that39s supposed to stay a hobby only. You know the kind of courses that little kids indulge themselves in summer holidays just for the heck of it That. Such a pity. But above everything, regret. Growing up. The act of behaving responsibly, or just pretending like being an epitome of whatever is required of every ideal beta and beti and maa-baap ke budape ka sahara, putting up with the lame stuff that aunties and uncles in the pados hopelessly conjure up, or passing a forced smile, nodding your head in an act of deliberate approval when deep down you fight the urge to suppress the fury reeking of crap-i-city, commands a great deal of gallantry. Difficult to achieve, undisputedly. The whole drama thing is orchestrated to win their hearts. To delude people into believing that putting up a submissive show matters. Like really. No matter how much we grow up to be, the only thing that would survive long enough to make a difference would be peace.All we want is peace.And happy conversations, sans crap. And yes, money. If they can. P All the speculations and fantasies I had so fervently fed upon, did not end up being even close. I might sound like a cynic oldie, but even that doesn39t make any difference. Sometimes, differences cease to cause a difference owing to the frequency of the same we are subjected to. At the end of the day, it ends up being just like any other affair. Like growing up does, every day.