An Inexplicable Explanation Of Maturing

One and all, either or not their call,

Are bound to break through even the strongest walls.

How many wounds, so much blood!

How many kisses, so much love!

Trudging on the treadmill, my steps aren’t gentle.

How can they be, when even my name says Sentimental?!

One of the golden lessons I boast of experiencing is that the extent of attachment we have to something is equal to the pain its absence inflicts.

Sentimental, as his name reveals, loved every little toy and every huge building, every shallow puddle and every deep heart, every white star and every black night.

He was a little kid who was still unaware that the beauty of a rose lies atop prickly thorns. And the fire that warms numb hands is capable of bringing not just houses but homes to ashes.

Sentimental Was Innocent.


Sentimental was still jogging along life in the same fashion. He was never alone, perhaps lonely. People loved him simply because he loved them.

One rainy day when Sentimental was chubby and in his 9th grade, he felt a strange pull towards a girl. No the attraction wasn’t based on looks, as he was still unfamiliar with the word ‘lust’. But the feeling was an imposed one, from the mind, which he mistook to be from the heart. Not thinking twice of his fat belly, he went up and confessed to her. The moment was surreal, and quite new to him. We all have a start, after all. And the icing on the cake was the rejection from her. And to still beautify the cake, Sentimental was made to wear the medal of taunt which read – fat.

He respected her decision and wore the medal, which only served the purpose of motivating him to keep pushing the bars forward.

Sentimental Was Now Facing Life.


On the morning of the day his class 10th results were to be declared, Sentimental was jogging back home after a two-hour long workout session in the community park. On reaching home, he reviewed his physique in the mirror. Yes, he was proud at the reflection of his athletic body. He was, now, more than just another amateur in calisthenics.

There were a few more reflections in the view. His certificates and trophies in cricket, football, badminton, debates, elocutions and instrumental competitions were filling the shelf. Nostalgia helped him realise it all began when his mother forced him to participate in a fancy dress competition back in the second grade.

“How can we not talk about family, when family’s all we’ve got?”

While he was just standing and taking in his progress, something fell off his table. He picked up his school council’s badge. The one whose pic he had mailed to an old teacher. The one who once had, thankfully, told him Sentimental he can never excel at anything. In this process of picking up the badge, something else fell without making a sound. Sentimental walked away, while the medal of taunt lay on the ground never to be reclaimed. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone; it was his work that was now making the noise.

Sentimental Learnt How To Transform Discouragement to Encouraging Strength.


His 10th results weren’t up to his father’s expectation of a perfect 10 CGPA. He was now faced with the dilemma of choosing his stream, which according to us Indians, decides what our life will mould into. And like every concerned parent, Sentimental’s too suggested him to opt for Science. But this subject was something he never did well at. His school didn’t offer Humanities, which was his choice. But did he have any other option? He appeared for the Science and Maths entrance papers, and it was only after clearing the class 11th entrances for PCM and PCB that He realized he did have an option. To leave the school where he had brought himself near to the zenith, and leave behind all his friends (now, brothers), mother-like teachers, those memorable classrooms, and choose another school which was alien to his life, heart and city limits.

Standing in the rain of jeers and discouragements from his relatives, Sentimental didn’t let a drop of obscenities touch him. He knew what shade was he standing under, sure to navigate his way to happiness.

Sentimental left the school that was closer to him than his heart was, and embraced the new environment with optimism.

It was this new school where he won few but cemented friendships.

Sentimental Wasn’t A Kid Anymore!


From seeing a friend falling a victim to the depressingly beautiful rule of death, to being acknowledged by Paulo Coelho,

From being a rebel to anything and everything which he was ‘asked’ to do, to being nicknamed as the Gentleman,

From seeking attention for everything he did, to earning that love and attention,

There have been times in his bright life when the lights were too dim, and the storm too strong to let the hopeful candle stay lit and guide the path.

It was in such darkness that he accidently hit a door, which turned out to be of a library. He’s still in debt to that absence of light, because these paperbacks taught him not to burn bodies to walk life, but enlighten oneself from within to never let anything or one stop you from doing what your instincts dictate.

He’s another teenager.
He’s Sentimental. In deep love with pristine blank sheets, inking emotions and feeling words.

I’m Sentimental.


This was the writeup I submitted as a response to a task given by Prof. Kalyan Chatterjee, the HOI of Amity School of Communication, at Amity University, Noida.

I was there to attend a two-week Summer School, and trust me when I say that those two weeks, the friends from every direction, the hostel experience, the Journalism Course, the casual dates, the Pool Tournaments, the DJ Nights, the faculty, the seminar bunks, the Everything was something more than just cherishable.

A special mention to the hours of conversation with Kalyan Sir, who is nicknamed the ‘Encyclopedia’ by the Amity Faculty. He didn’t just help me illuminate the path to my dreams, but also how to look at everything with a deeper perspective, skipping his meals in the process.

Do try the course if the opportunity knocks! And yes, a blog to be out soon for the Summer School.

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