Change

While browsing the wealth of books at the public library, I came across, by chance, upon a series of three novels by Roger MacBride Allen which are sequels to the Star Wars storyline, set about 14 years after Episode 6. I was highly amused to find them, because about 7 years ago, I had read the first two and I loved them, but never could find the third, concluding novel. So, I took all three books and read them, so that I could refresh my memory of the first two novels before reading the third.

I was infinitely more amused to discover that I now find these books fairly childish. They were good, make no mistake, but clearly meant for kids in their early or mid teens. Amusement gave way to no small degree of discomfiture on realizing that this means that I've grown up. More than the fact that I'm living with roommates a million miles away from family, more than the fact that I have a Bachelor's and a Master's degree and am working through a Doctorate, more than the fact that I've celebrated four birthdays after my eighteenth, this realization struck much farther, much deeper.

I am now a responsible adult. It's so eminently laughable that all my cousins and old friends will be rolling on the ground and clutching their stomachs in laughter if they heard me make that statement as a flat out, matter of fact statement.

Of all things to bring the realization home, it had to be a novel. Perhaps I am as incorrigible as people say.

In what other ways have I changed from the 15 year old kid who read the Star Wars novel and thought, "Whoa! This is cool!"? Perhaps I am a lot less naive. Perhaps I've gotten over my shyness and unwillingness to talk to unfamiliar people. Perhaps I now consider academic performance as a smaller priority in comparison other areas of self-improvement. Perhaps I've found some new hobbies. Perhaps I now carry the subtle influences of my friends over the years, that have changed my outlook towards life in more ways than one. Perhaps I now know more truly the meaning of love, of compassion, of fear, of anguish. Perhaps I have gained confidence in some ways, and lost confidence, in other ways.

But at the core, am I not the same? Am I still not naive by the world's standards? Am I still not the kid who delights in poems and fantastic stories, in creative weavings of words and tales? Do I still not hold the same principles and scruples that guide my life, the simple guidelines of "Be nice. Be good. After all, that is how you would like others to be."?

I asked myself these questions once before, when I came out of a difficult time in a relationship. For in my pride, I believed that one place where the old me could never go wrong was in friendship. Hence I kept trying to figure out how I'd changed, that I could bring pain to a dear friend.

But now I know the answer to that question. I have changed on the surface, but I am still me. The one thing I do not have is an identity crisis. I know who and what I am. Things go wrong, and it may or may not be my fault, but in intent, I cannot go wrong. I learnt to forgive others long ago, for the most despicable of actions, for the most grievous of sins, for I believe in giving another chance for any person to become better. What I've learnt now is that I should learn to forgive myself, for I have trust in myself. The key to improving things is not a guilty conscience but a free one.

I think I can finally lay old demons to rest and walk with a lighter step.

Cheers,
Prashanth.