As two six-year something street boys, covered with muck, fought for a piece of bread, at one of the by lanes of the famous Juhu area of Mumbai, the band of rich and famous danced to the tune of wild music at the JW Marriot. Year 2000 was just minutes away and at the turn around of the millennium India had started to shine, in discs, in restaurants, in posh localities, in big cities, in big companies, and at every place which was concerned with big money. But the rest of India was waiting for the sun to rise, for them it stayed below the horizon for years together.

Circa 2007, India is still shinning, more than ever before. It is shinning everywhere, in schools and colleges, in offices, in call centers, in pubs, in restaurants, in hotels, in flights, in malls, on the roads. But the by lanes of all these places are still dark. We pass through them and don’t notice them; we live each day as if we don’t care of what happens to people who live on these lanes. Do we really care? I think we don’t.

Life in the fast lane has become increasingly complex; we are at almost all times busy with our own problems, small and big. India is shinning but we are still worried about our sisters and daughters falling victim to some preying eye on the roads in Delhi. We are worried about our kids going to school, as to what will some strange school teacher do to them, what will the results do to them. We are worried about how much more money do we need to feel comfortable, and from where to get it. We are worried about what reservations will do to our future. We are worried about so many things all the time. Who has time to think about those who cant even worry for themselves!

As I wrote this I got a call from friend for a Saturday night party at a happening place in South Mumbai, I get up and get ready to go, telling myself that I need a break as well. I partied all night, drank to the limits, and left the place at 3 in the morning to come out and see two hungry six-years something boys fighting for a piece of bread. I still have many things to worry about!

Child to a boy, boy to a man; fixed route, set time, inevitable and for everyone. Maturity on the other hand is a realization. No route, no time, no standards, no levels. It is a projection of the learning from the past into the future. Maturity accumulates throughout one’s life. You are never enough mature. But if you are mature, you are always better than before. Maturity itself will make sure that you identify it within you and utilize it; you don’t have to roam around finding it.

Life’s processes are subtle and beautiful, if we could ever stop and look at them as an outsider from a distance, we would just watch in complete awe, as if spell bound by a stunning performance by an actor in a live theatre. It amazes you, it ionizes every bit of you, and you can’t but stand up and bow.  

Maturity is a function of experiences, common, individual and then there is also a constant in this function, the value of which differs from individual to individual. My closest friend lost his father when he was in class IX and his family was left to him. A boy of class IX and a family of 5, constant in his case was death. Another friend lost his love because she could not accept in front of her parents the love for him, for him the constant is silence. I was born with a medical ailment which will die only with me, my constant is disease. The constants vary, some are heavy some are light, but they never stop you, they are all but a part of one equation of maturity. Those who are stopped by these, never mature.

Maturity is never age, it is never time, and it is never complete. It grows as you do. Maturity is not about taking the right and wrong decisions. Maturity is not about laughing at jokes that suit your age. Maturity is not what as the world refers “learning from mistakes made”. Maturity never tells you not to make mistakes; it only helps you not repeat the same mistake over and over again. But making mistakes or rather not making them is also not a measure of maturity. Mistakes will still be made, that is engrained in life. You and I can’t deny it, which is the way life is lived. Mistakes are never the end, (in some cases where mistakes do become the end, it is just incidental, not a mistake of “mistake”).

Maturity is the truth in your own eyes. Maturity is learning from the happiness in your life. Maturity is humbleness. Maturity is a helping hand. Maturity is acceptance.

 I speak = Climbing stairs with that 10 kg bag in school, I thought was always unfair. But then there were incentives to follow. I liked studying or I was the monitor of the class are two horribly wrong guesses. And those who had strict parents will have the quickest guess that they were forced into going to school, incentives! Bullshit. The incentive(s) for me were the girls in my class and especially her. She was sweet and even with those broken front teeth (mind you I am in class II) she looked cute, sweet, lovely, and most beautiful; I can keep on adding adjectives. And I liked looking at her, I always envied that stupid monitor of our class, besides the fact that he got to wear that badge he also got the chance to look at her face as the bugger used to stand up when ever the teacher was not there, I on the contrary, a born back bencher could only look at her back. So that was my first love! Yes of course I loved her, and my second, third and so many other Loves to follow were exactly the same, and I only kept looking. I loved all of them deeply and life just kept moving on. And while over the years I never got the courage to talk, forget propose, to any of these lovely girls some of my friends in some other part of the country were living a completely different life or rather love life.

A Girl Speaks = [Chorus]: [Climbing stairs with that 10 kg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .incentives! Bullshit]. The incentive was a guy in my class, my boyfriend (writer’s note: mind you I am using the same timeline and therefore this is also Class II, phew!). We sat on the same bench and, he was my man! And I felt like a queen, we held each others hands under our table. The entire class knew it so no other gal could dare flirt with him vice versa for the guys of the class. But then one day I found him with another girl and we broke up, I was shattered, he ditched me. (End of class II) It was only in the beginning of class III when another one walked into my life; with him I even shared my tiffin, I did not want to commit any mistake this time. But it wasn’t to be, mistakes were committed, and between my first kiss (please read smooch), walk on the beach with him, night long tele calls, archies cards and gifts, candle light dinners, men kept walking in and out of my life. I am happy for all what happened to me, because if not for anything else, these men did make my life spicier and ME – wanted.

A Guy Speaks = [Chorus]: [Climbing stairs with that 10 kg. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .incentives! Bullshit]. The incentive was her. I really liked talking to her. And my friends told me that she had something for me. (all of this in class II). I never missed an opportunity of talking or getting close to her, and I would like to believe that she did the same. I thought I loved her, but what we shared was precious to me, and I didn’t want to risk it and therefore, I never said it to her. Time passed on, and we developed great bonding. We passed out of school; she left the country and I started college. Years later, thanks to the technology these days, we got in touch.  She is still single and so am I. We talk endlessly of the lovely days spent at school, of the gifts that we have preserved till date, and of how life has changed or not changed. I think I love her, but I still can’t say, I don’t have the courage, she is Precious to Me!

Why bits and pieces? days, months, years, going by slowly one by one. Some add value, some dont. Some I live, some I dont. Some give joy, some dont. Some just pass by, some stay there for ever. This is a time to bring all those bits and pieces of life together, years that have gone by, times that I am yet to see, and present which I am fighting with. These bits and pieces define my existence, and I am trying to put them together. I know my life, myself, or do I not? Will I see a new picture of me in these when I put them together, thats left to see. Thats why I am here. Thats why “bits and pieces” is here. Long spells of procrastination have lead me no where, life is becoming stagnant in the mind. Alarm! STAGNANT, is it a cancer in the mind, I think so, how badly I am hit by it? How far can I go? What is the way out? Dreams that I see each day, what will happen to them, ah! shame on how life is going. Bits and pieces, yes! they will be my way out, they will help me fight stagnancy, they will show me a new picture each day. Light is what I am waiting for, still some time for the dawn to strike, till then  with folded hands and bowed head I pray to Thee, give me Courage!!