In an old, crumbling notebook, which somehow survived since my childhood days, I found this little poem that nine-year-old me wrote to my parents. What a strange feeling it was reading this. I wonder if traces of this obstinate and willful yet loving kid are still left in me.
To my parents
It’s My life
It’s my life
Stop nagging me
Stop scolding me
Stop instructing me
It’s my life
Don’t interfere with it
Let me do what I want to do,
How I want to do it
When I want to do it
Where I want to do it
But please guide me,
Encourage me,
Love me,
Care for me,
Help me,
Forgive me,
And don’t forget me.
And you will get all these things back from me.
Your loving son,
Varun.
