This is 16

This is 16

Long cascading hair

You’ve learned new terminology

-heatless curls 

-lymphatic drainage 

-contouring 

New brands 

Edikted (not “addicted”!)

Brandy

Uggs (ugh-ly!)

This is 16

It’s so GenX to use punctuation

Her teachers are so annoying

Sometimes she just hates everybody

and sometimes everybody hates her.

Size 7 feet

Hands that can wield a makeup brush like a master

Rolling-eye and sarcasm expert 

Tries to make jokes, that fall flat

They crack her up anyway

This is 16

Learning to drive

Doesn't know how to parallel park

Doesn't hear you. Hears every word when you’re talking to your best friend on the phone.

Or to your husband (about her) 

Loves to talk about her day

Stops in the middle of a sentence 

when she realizes it's TMI

This is 16

Dramatic. Independent. Opinionated. 

Loves to loll in her bed

in her messy room

clothes and makeup everywhere 

She needs you

except when she doesn’t

and she is “over stimulated” and can’t bear you being close

This is 16

Sometimes she is a social butterfly

and sometimes she has social anxiety

She needs things to be aesthetic 

She can tell at a glance that you made an ugly PowerPoint 

She always smells amazing

Sometimes you shower in her bathroom because she has better products than you do

This is 16

Graceful. Radiantly beautiful. 

She scrolls through her phone on the couch 

For a second you see a glimpse of the little girl she used to be, glasses and all. 

You insist on showing her old baby pictures

and she smiles tolerantly 

This is 16

More dazzling and complicated than you ever imagined it would be. 

Those playground squabbles and make-believe games? 

You smile at how simple it seemed then

What you thought they were testing your patience and your resolve, 

that was just some limbering up

for what’s coming 

In 2 years she will spread her wings

You push that thought away

For now

it is enough that she wants to cuddle up with you before you go to sleep

(you always go to bed before her)

That she usually wants to watch a rom-com with you on the weekend 

that you can both groove to Hamilton and Mamma Mia

and you can both cite every dialogue from Notting Hill 

For now, it is enough 

That she likes to shop with you 

and sit alongside on the floor at Barnes and Noble

nose deep in a book 

That you change her sheets every week even though you scold her for not doing it 

That you can still make her favorite vodka pasta 

That she still sends you a text that just says 

mummmmmaaaaa

This is 16. 

This is magnificent.

Holi-day memories

Imagine the time and place - early 1980s, early March, somewhere in UP (Meerut, Lucknow etc). It is Holi. Schools and offices are off. For days, the Subramanian family has existed in a state of dread. Their least favourite festival is looming. Amma grew up in Dehradun and Delhi, yet dislikes Holi, as does Appa who is a Madras boy through and through. My brother is probably too young to register much perhaps, but I have certainly contracted my parent's apprehensiveness about this Helli-day.

We have many friends among our lovely North Indian neighbors and colleagues (South Indians and Tamilians being rather thin on the ground), but we don't enjoy their boisterous and aggressive Holi avatars. Our wallflower-ish Tamilian instincts rebel at all that shouting, dancing, music, throwing color and water. Our biggest fear is being dragged out of the house and forced to be a sport and participate in Holi festivities. 

Our house in Meerut has two front doors. So my dad has the brilliant idea one year to install a big lock on one door, enter the house through the other, and barricade ourselves in. The four of us sit inside, quiet as mice, knowing fully well we would be getting visitors shortly. (It was probably 2-3 people from my dad's office but to my 7 year old self it felt like a mob!)

Sure enough, some people arrive at the door. Knock loudly, ring the doorbell. "Subramanian, we know you are in there. Baahar aao! Hum kuch nahin karenge" someone with a name like Dubey/Goel/Tiwari yells. 

After multiple rounds of shouting "Subramanian", my dad knows the game was up. He bravely opens the door. They are very nice, they put a teeka, throw some color on all of us, maybe we exchange sweets. 

Anticlimax! Much ado about nothing! Rinse and repeat every year :) 

Just in case you were curious, I love playing Holi now :) Yesterday's trauma is often today's funny story!