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	<title>Karthik Keramalu, Author at Youngisthan.in</title>
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		<title>The Absent Joys Of Growing Up</title>
		<link>https://www.youngisthan.in/opinions/the-absent-joys-of-growing-up/36384</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Karthik Keramalu]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 09 Oct 2015 05:06:17 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Specials]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Featured]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Joys Of Growing Up]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.youngisthan.in/?p=36384</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p><img width="660" height="396" src="https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-660x396.jpg" class="attachment-medium size-medium wp-post-image" alt="dance-group" style="float:left; margin:0 15px 15px 0;" srcset="https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-660x396.jpg 660w, https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-250x150.jpg 250w, https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-400x240.jpg 400w, https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group.jpg 1000w" sizes="(max-width: 660px) 100vw, 660px" />Everybody’s getting married, and I’m getting old. Priya is the girl I once loved; with pigtails and a soft nose. I’d chosen her among the top ten girls from my seniors. She used to teach us  dance. As a confused lad, engaged in the blurring of love and infatuation, I repeatedly made mistakes to catch [&#8230;]</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://www.youngisthan.in/opinions/the-absent-joys-of-growing-up/36384">The Absent Joys Of Growing Up</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://www.youngisthan.in">Youngisthan.in</a>.</p>
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										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<img width="660" height="396" src="https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-660x396.jpg" class="attachment-medium size-medium wp-post-image" alt="dance-group" style="float:left; margin:0 15px 15px 0;" srcset="https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-660x396.jpg 660w, https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-250x150.jpg 250w, https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group-400x240.jpg 400w, https://www.youngisthan.in/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/dance-group.jpg 1000w" sizes="(max-width: 660px) 100vw, 660px" /><p>Everybody’s getting married, and I’m getting old.</p>
<p>Priya is the girl I once loved; with pigtails and a soft nose. I’d chosen her among the top ten girls from my seniors. She used to teach us  dance. As a confused lad, engaged in the blurring of love and infatuation, I repeatedly made mistakes to catch her attention.</p>
<p>But would she look at me once? Not even for a fleeting moment.</p>
<p>When schools close for vacation at the end of an academic year, grief attacks the mind after a week or two knowing you wouldn’t be able to meet your friends, and the girls more importantly, for a month.</p>
<p>Finally school reopened; by then she had moved out of school, and I out of the dance group. Years later when I found out she had become a dance instructor, I sought her routine, but was flabbergasted to know that she was engaged. It turns out, for an iridium seeker all the gold in the world makes him nauseous. I’m not a pervert to be haunted by the dreams of a pig tailed girl. She has obviously retained her charm over the years, nevertheless, I’m more of a gentleman now with no stubble whatsoever and “possessing immaculate knowledge of sand and food for a 27-year-old who owns a beach restaurant”. My Uncle added that at a family dinner last year and I’m pretty proud of it. I flaunt it wherever I go.</p>
<p>I somehow used my wit to get myself invited to the lavish wedding of hers with a soon to be bald guy who I’m sure I’m not interested in shaking hands with.</p>
<p>The wedding is at <span data-term="goog_192319077">10.30 AM</span> <span data-term="goog_192319078">tomorrow</span>, it’s almost a 45-kilometer drive from my place. I’d have to be up and driving by <span data-term="goog_192319079">8.30 AM</span>. Before I prepare myself for the wedding lunch, I go to my restaurant for dinner.</p>
<p>I have seen Priya a couple of times after school, she grew prettier although she had a haircut every once in a while. To see her in her wedding attire would round my circle.</p>
<p>I sleep. My alarm would shout at <span data-term="goog_192319080">7 AM</span></p>
<p>There is a rope ladder falling from the edge of the sky. I climb up and climb up and climb up, step by step, not tiring, not questioning, determined to know the infinity that invited me. I look down, the rope ladder falls into nothingness, when I look up there is still a mountain to climb. I summon the courage to go up two steps at a time when I still see no clear sign of nearing the beginning of the rope ladder, I shake it to see the strength of it. It is as strong as an elephant’s tusk, it doesn’t shake. This time, I try going up three steps, but I miss a step and fall into an abyss.</p>
<p>I wake up to see my alarm scream <span data-term="goog_192319081">10.40 AM</span>.</p>
<p>I grumble and wish her all the good things in life and go back to sleep, probably to climb the rope ladder to see what lay beyond and I give up once and for all of laying my eyes on Priya and her mate.</p>
<p>The post <a rel="nofollow" href="https://www.youngisthan.in/opinions/the-absent-joys-of-growing-up/36384">The Absent Joys Of Growing Up</a> appeared first on <a rel="nofollow" href="https://www.youngisthan.in">Youngisthan.in</a>.</p>
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