Do We Really Grow Up?

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I was comparing my earlier self with my present self, the other day. I used to have many, many fears, most of them imaginative. I used to live sweets. I used to get jealous if someone whom I loved gave me less priority. I used to sulk for hours in end. Then I thought about the kind of person I am now. I still have fears, most of them imaginary. I still love sweets, but I have trained my mind to like them less. I still sulk when I feel jealous. So everything is very much like how it used to be. The fear of ghosts and darkness has been replaced with fear of loneliness. I see my earlier self in what I am now. These are so many similarities. That brings me to a point: Do We Really Grow Up?

The girl who believed in fairy tales, knight in shining armor is now a grandmother of two, they look wide eyed at her when she tells them their bedtime story. She flips through the stories and stops at the story of Rupanzel. She looks dreamily at the picture of prince charming rescuing her from a mossy, old tower. She starts to tell the story, reliving her dream of a fairy tale life. She thinks about the letters which she has kept hidden in the pages of her favorite romantic novel. She too had a story. A love story.

A banker who sits at his desk whole day working with digits, stops for his evening tea. His eyes see a small green field in the distant. He had always wanted to be a cricketer, family didn’t agree. But that distant green field brings to him, the memories of the matches he had played. He is still crazy about cricket. The only difference is that now he sits and watches it in his TV. He relives the passion through the games he sees. He is still a young boy at heart, who loves his game.

Do we really grow up?

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