Growing up

No, this doesn't refer to a certain organ of mine that derives excitement out of proximity to members of the opposite sex (and which, somewhat inconveniently, doubles up as the endpoint of the excretory tract).

This refers to me. Myself. Not Irene, though (yes, I know that was a pathetic one).

As a rule, people are expected to grow up with time. I've never found out why, though. They say, it's all about responsibilities, but then, responsibilities are supposed to make people matured; how relevant are responsibilities as far as growing up is concerned?

I'm expected to grow up, I know. This possibly means I cannot afford to remain innocent. I need to strangle the child inside me, somehow. This means that I cannot

• afford to take a walk when I like to (which would double up as a physical exercise on a serious note)
• call up friends when I'm keen to converse with (surprisingly, there are quite a few)
• read books that I crave for (as if the list isn't infinite...)
• go for a movie (or a hundred) just like that
• watch cricket endlessly (they do seem to be endless these days)
• pull the flush halfway through a pee and try frantically to finish off before the water runs out (and invariably fail, and wait back for the cistern to refill)
• or do lots of stuff that I really like to do.

And then...

• I shouldn't jump up trying to reach the leaves of the oh-so-close trees while I walk back home (I did touch one this week!)
• I shouldn't fall asleep on the grass during an afternoon stroll (preferably not on a winter night)
• I should prefer porn to animated movies (to be honest, I do at times)
• I shouldn't take the first tram that runs through Maidan, stuffing telebhaja with an insatiable lupine hunger (cut down somewhat due to dieting)
• I shouldn't stand on the terrace for hours to greet the first rain (and catch pneumonia)
• I shouldn't while away my time sniffing warmed-up mattresses in the lazy spring afternoons with polash all over my back (okay, I know I need the tree somewhere on my terrace, but let's not spoil the mood)
• I should rush through the supermarkets at lightning speed instead of spending hours trying to read the label on the newest detergent (and point out the spelling and grammatical errors)

Well, I can crib all day on this. But, as we all know, grown-ups don't behave like that. They absorb their tears the way grown-ups are supposed to do, and grown-ups have done over centuries. And then, boy's don't cry, remember?