Teen on a Ledge

Her knuckles turned white as she held on to the handle for dear life. Her feet shuffled nervously on the ledge that kept her from the roaring ocean beneath her. Her thoughts ran wild as she pondered over what brought her there. I just wish they’d understand! she fumed. I cannot live like them! I am not like them! She shuddered as she thought of what happened last night. All the shouting and screaming. It was just too much for her to handle. Isn’t this supposed to be her own life? Isn’t she supposed to make her own decisions?

She looked around to see if someone was around. To care about what she was about to do. To at least try to make her stop. But all she saw were birds, flying about in circles over her head. Waiting for her to take the plunge. This is it, she thought in resolve. There was no stopping her now.

Slowly and carefully, she let go of the handle. Spreading her arms wide, she prepared herself to embrace the waters. She closed her eyes and stepped ahead, into the air. And down she went. It was faster than she’d imagined. Before she knew it, she’d hit the cold waters. If she knew how to swim, she’d forgotten it as the waves enveloped around her. She felt cold stinging sensation in her lungs. Nothing could stop her now. She’d done it. She’d given in.

This girl gave the 14 years of her life up because she couldn’t take the pressure anymore. Pressure to be like her parents. Pressure to score more marks. Pressure to do what they wanted her to do. She succumbed to all the pressure and finally gave in.

What can you, as parents, do differently for your teenagers?

Tales of a Wandering Mind – 2

In class, with a book open and a pen in hand,
I try my best to listen to what is being ‘taught’.
But like a sneaky mouse, distraction makes its way into my mind.

Sometimes it’s the gaudy colors of the ppt slides, or irrelevant pictures on them. Mostly, both.
Or the awkward postures of the professor,
Or the constant companion of their lingo- “chumma” and “kutti”

It could be the construction noises from out the window, or the chirping birds.
Sometimes it’s a moth that makes its way into class and disrupts even the studious of the lot.

I check the time and gasp. It’s only been 10 minutes.
Resolving to make the most of the remaining time, I look at the professor who is gesturing to the slide and..

Uh-oh! He’s misspelled 5 words in a slide. Then my mind starts to count the number of misspelled words until I hear him say wisdomous statements like “Disorientation is the absence of orientation”. I stifle a laugh and note this down for further reference.

After that, I just start to randomly scribble away. I write my name like 50 times, trying different fonts and sizes.
I look back at the professor, feigning attention. But the color of his shirt pulls my attention away. And I begin to wonder how anyone can get away with wearing something in that color.

Amidst passing notes to my friends, I realize that the girl in the 2nd bench has had a haircut. I “Psst!” her till she turns around and I mouth that I like her haircut. She smiles. But now the professor is standing there glaring at me through his framed glasses.

He asks me what he was talking about. “I wish we both knew”, I wanna say. But I just read something off the slide, instead. He raises his brow, obviously skeptic about the answer. I dread him asking me to explain.

But then comes the sound that catches my attention and as soon as it does, a smile dawns on my face. The bell, symbolizing the end of an hour long lecture on who-knows-what and therefore, freedom from the Wandering Mind.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance is purely coincidental 🙂

(This is one of my writings in college that I found recently. Hope you enjoyed it!)