Becoming, Unbecoming, and Everything In Between

It was all one storey back then. I often find myself wondering what they must have changed. I remember there was a big tree on the way to our canteen. I wonder if it’s still standing strong, still offering shade to children who don’t yet know they’ll one day miss that very walk. I heard they built a new classroom along the way. Does it still carry the same colors it did when we were there?

Sometimes nostalgia comes like a sudden wave. It doesn’t knock. It just arrives, and I have no choice but to sit down and write. Late, but happy Holi, everyone. I didn’t realize it had been over a month since my last post. Every time I feel the urge to write, when emotions spill over and beg to be heard, I get distracted by life. By the things that demand time and attention. (By cooking and eating, mostly. I am exhausted, trust me.) I saw videos of my school friends recently. Every time I watch them, I sit there thinking about how we were as children. I just can’t get past the realization that we are all growing up. As much as I want that for us, for growth, for becoming, it makes me equally sad.

The strange part is, I genuinely miss my friends. It feels odd to admit because I was never the overly attached one. I wasn’t the friend who made friendship her entire personality. And yet, here I am, aching a little. Nostalgia is painful. It makes me sad. Or maybe it’s just my hormones. These cramps feel like they might be the death of me.

There were so many things I wanted to write about, and I regret not writing them the moment I felt them. Emotions are freshest when they arrive; you can capture them better when they’re still warm. My head hurts as I write this. Can I just cuss and get over with it, please?

Today was a lot. A lot for my social battery. I had an 8 a.m. class, came home, and then got ready for my evening classes. Somewhere in between, a friend, let’s call him Baazey, randomly called me for what he said was an “interview.” I thought it would be casual. But no. He had a DSLR and a mic ready. It was for something related to World Language. And somehow, we reached the part where I talked about "Jab We Met". Yes, I am that girl. The “Jab We Met kind of girl.” I don’t love the label. I genuinely enjoy the movie, but please, I am not Geet. She can be stupid. I like her character, but let’s be honest, she can get really annoying. Aditya, though? Cute. Maybe that’s why I like the movie. Maybe it’s him.

Mood shift. The mood swings I have been having are wild.

We were all hanging out as a group today, and everything was chill and fun. We were watching old music videos and laughing so hard. Seriously, try watching “Kyu Kisi Ko Wafa Ke Badle” from *Tere Naam*, it’s dramatic in the most unintentionally funny way. As we kept switching songs, something became very obvious: almost every old movie has some subtle thread of misogyny woven into it. Somewhere, women are sidelined. We talked about how older films often made cheating seem casual, not justified exactly, but normalized.

Then someone said, “If you start dissecting things that deeply, you’ll find a problem in everything.”

And I replied, “You’re this close to realizing how deeply patriarchy is rooted.”

That sentence made me pause. Because we all know, deep down, that almost everything we consume daily is shaped by systems that prioritize men. We are aware of it. And instead of being disturbed, many choose to ignore it. And that ignorance often comes from men. Because why would they feel the weight of something that doesn’t crush them?

Feminist women are constantly nitpicked, questioned, and mocked for being “too much.” But no one stops to think about how tragic it is that women received voting rights so recently in history (after the 1970s). Imagine being denied basic rights simply because of your gender. As a man, can you imagine not being allowed to enjoy fundamental freedoms because you were born male? Probably not.

But do you ever pause to feel grateful for your rights? To support women who fight for theirs? That’s what makes me sad.

For the longest time, when I spoke about feminism to men, I would soften it. I would say, “Feminism benefits men too.” I thought I was making it more acceptable, more palatable. I didn’t realize I was packaging equality as something men could consume only if it served them.

Why would a man care, I thought, if it didn’t benefit him?

It’s painful to admit that even I framed it that way.

So let me say it clearly now: we need feminism. Not because it benefits men. Not because it makes society “balanced” in some abstract way. We need feminism to lift women’s status. To create equity. To undo centuries of imbalance.

Yes, we need both men and women in this fight. But let’s not dilute the purpose.

And maybe that’s what all of this is: nostalgia, hormones, exhaustion, anger, longing. Growing up and realizing the world isn’t as simple as it once seemed. Missing who we were while trying to become who we need to be.

random:)