And since it is Sunday, I can feel like I am 12 again. No working on Sunday, No staff to boss around, No buyers to take orders from, and No feeling bigger than I can be, and No visions of success, and No feeling my age, and No set expectations from life, and No full steam ahead and No positive thoughts only, and I can take just a pause. And feel like I am 12 again.
And wearing half pants, with buttons and zippers, that dont fit me without a belt, and faded t-shirts from Fashion Street that have lasted for over a year, and cleaning my Bata's Naughty Boy shoes and polishing them till they mirror my face, and packing my school bag with plastic to prevent the rain from entering, and fighting with Mom about carrying a water bottle, and losing an umbrella every month, and having lunch money to buy 2 samosas for one rupee fifty paise, and wearing black canvas shoes and feeling like I can chase down the steaming locomotive on the tracks, and riding a cycle to school and feeling cool about it, and wearing long pants in school for the first time and feeling all grown up about it, and growing my hair on purpose, and getting caught by the Principal, and cutting classes on any pretext at all, and having crushes on the cuter teachers, and sitting on the last bench and looking out towards Bandra, and carrying all my books because I am too lazy to set the books as per the timetable, and falling asleep on the kitchen table while doing my homework and listening to Binaca Geet Mala, And going to sleep, and hoping that the overnight rain floods the building so we dont have to go to school the next day, and calling up the school at 6.45 AM to see if the school is working or not, and counting the remarks made in my school calendar book, and counting the merit cards, and wondering which gift I will get this year (I didnt get any, I fell short by 1 merit card). And playing 'Hops' and 'Bets' in School, and hitting people I didnt like as hard as possible, and scribbling graffitti on toilet walls, and angling for the class monitor's post and then hating every minute of it, and playing basketball from 3 in the afternoon till 9 in the night, and filling whole notebooks with Royal Blue writing, and wiping China Pens on my hair to clean off the excess ink, and never learning to tie a knot when in school, and standing for School House President and getting only 6 votes, and going for class trips, and picnics and wearing a heavy schoolbag on the left shoulder and walking hunched for ever.
And nimbu-paani, and kaccha beri and pakka bor, and hara saunf and imli, and and rocks of kaala namak and churan and jeera goli and chatpat, and wada-pav for 1 rupee and 75 paise, and standing at the entrance of Sion Lunch Home asking for glasses of water to drink, and Neera from the STD booth, and 50 paise bus tickets and girls from Everard Nagar, and smal and big pepsi-colas, and plastic bags of juice, and milk pepsi, and Parle-G biscuits with water and Indrajal Comics, and wishing that I could be the Ghost who Walks for a single day.
And maybe I want to be 12 for as long as possible. Atleast until 9 PM tonight. Tomorrow, I can be 26 again.