Smells Like 'Post-Teen' Spirit

On an ordinary afternoon, I was whiling away my time by getting involved in some or the other useless activities as usual. The effusive speakers of my laptop were playing some music perfunctorily. The playlist went on and so did my waifish activities and haphazard thoughts. Media player was on the ‘shuffle’ mode and the track changed to the legendry Nirvana song, ‘Smells like teen spirit’. One of my all time favourites, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is a song that I have heard on infinite loops at some point in time. I have been smelling this teen spirit for quite a while now. There was nothing new for me in the song since I even know the entire lyrics by heart. Yet, the song prompted a couple of interesting thoughts in my mind.

Me, a soon – to - be 20 boy, is on the verge of getting out of my teens. The very thought itself has an antagonistic effect on me. Teens, a period of life that has a foundational effect on one’s personality, is certainly a time that’s dynamic in the true sense of the word. Not that I have lived 2-3 lives already and am talking like ‘been there - done that’; but I believe that 13 – 19 are the years in life that make a person undergo the most physical and mental changes in his life. The psychological growth of a person, his principles and philosophies, way of thinking is set and defined in these 6-7 years. When I recall myself at the age of 13, there’s hardly anything that I can see which is common in ‘me today’ and ‘me then’, except for probably a body, which, too, has undergone several physical changes over these years.

Today, I am an adult. I’m supposed to be responsible and mature. I’m not allowed to behave at my will every time and everywhere. I have to take my decisions on my own and face the problems on my own, too. There are many things that are trying to pull me down and trying to impede my way to achieve what I call, ‘success’. I have suddenly started looking at myself in a different manner. ‘Am I just another confused soul, lost in the huge crowd?’, ‘How can I make a difference?’, ‘Is it really necessary for one to make a difference?’, ‘What exactly is ‘success’?’, ‘Do I have to be successful?’, ‘Should I expect my dreams to realize someday or dreams are just to be seen, never hoping them to be realized?’, ‘Should even dreams have limitations like all the other things in life or the idea of ‘free dreaming’ holds some truth in it?’ These and many other conundrums have begun to occupy my mind, as a youngster just leaving his teens behind.

The new world that is soon going to be open for me (or perhaps, has already opened for me) will be a different one, a completely different one than the one I have lived my teens in. This difference is so huge that I would need the entire magazine space to describe it (oh sorry! that’s unlimited for me). Anyway, exemplifying my point now, the title of the song that I spoke about in the beginning of the article will always taunt me that it’s no more ‘mine’. I will be doing no better than just thinking about those magical college days when life seemed at its dramatic best. Those Juhu Mocha days and starry nights on the empty beaches, the late – night drives, those speedy bike rides, the sandwiches eaten in the midnight, the teen age crushes, the optimistic girl chases, the jam sessions, some beautiful teen age moments spent with friends…oh my ghost (I’m an atheist)! I just got nostalgic. I will miss them all, man! I will surely miss them all.

“Life often plays black,” I once told myself.

Looking at the brighter side of it, I will always have the memories of my teen age, along with me, in my treasure box. I will always recall my teens with a smile on my face, whenever I see someone else going through his and enjoying life as I once did; and last but not the least, the foundation that’s laid by my teens is yet to get converted into something big, something outrageous! And that’s probably the best way I can pay a tribute to those golden years in.

All said and done, now again, I smell something. This smell is a new one though; as of now, not as pleasant as the previous one. I’m not yet habitual to it. After all, it’s a new smell - the ‘post-teen’ spirit.

- Mihir Chitre
mihirmumbaikar@gmail.com

mi

The Painting

The oasis in the heart of this desert
Has molten glass
That once was pieces
That once made a frame
That once shattered
And fell inwards upon the painting
Of I
Sitting with friends
Several silences apart
Dreaming private dreams
Of future smiles
Never aware of cracked ground and sand

Now
Ends another cycle of four summers
That shattered the glass
And melted the pieces
Into an oasis
I alone drink and cry
Yet unable to tell
Unconquered fears
From echoes of alas
And tears shed over years

- Siddhesh Inamdar
siddhesh.inamdar@gmail.com

Walk Into the desert of my life

Walk into the desert of my life…for I call for you,
I will cry away your tears, for mine has dried into patience waiting

Pick up this pebble lying lost along the beaches of this forsaken lagoon
For I am waiting to be noticed……acknowledge my presence.

Look up for I am that broken cloud which doesn’t have you,
To bring downpour of bliss and euphoria

Allow me to touch and feel you, for I am all there
To take you on a ride to that utopia of silent acceptance of romance

Hold me for the rest of your way for I am no walking stick
But a stranger who is walking away into the strangeness of oneself

No one understands me probably for I am little labyrinth in my own self
I am not asking to simplify complications; your silent stare can come to some consolation

I want to be wanted, I desire to be desired, love to be loved.
To share my glass of wine with someone…to cheer the camaraderie

Collect the broken strings of my life to relate a relation meaningful
You can make it work, you can make me come alive, you can.

I take a stroll round the uptown parks, and come back like every other yesterday
Give me a reason not to come back….in the sense coming back to what I was.

I am as helpless as a baby immediately out of his mother’s womb
A baby who doesn’t even know to cry out with innocence and want

Look into my eyes to find eyes looking back at you in question
Eyes which hardly want to blink; in fear of missing your sudden glimpse.

You mean the world to me, a thing beyond this world, or let’s make it this world alone.
For let me limit my world to this world. Where this world tends to infinity and beyond.

Let the impostor of my dream and slap of this reality merge,
For you are the only probable difference between them.

Consider me for once for I have considered you forever
This drink is worth a drop if not a peg

You cannot be of a better use to anyone
Rather, no one else can need you as badly

Walk into the desert of my life…for I call for you
I will cry away your tears, for mine has dried into patience waiting.

- Chetan Tibrewala

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