Reflecting

Heading for my yoga class after a tiring day I was quite happy. I had joined it recently.

A few days had gone by but all I could see was: a big hall with pleasant still paintings, mostly of Krishna and peacocks and middle-aged auntie-uncles, trying to reach out for their toes.

I opened then closed my mouth in an effort to ask sir if my age group people attended their class? Something stopped me.

I was just happy to see someone ‘young(er)’.

“Hi, I’m Trisha,” she said returning my grin. Only bigger.

I introduced myself. On closer inspection, I saw that her eyes looked very tired and were a little baggy from the sides, at least that’s what I caught from her framed eyes. Hey, someone needed ‘calm’ more than I did.

“I’m in 7th standard, what about you, what are you doing?”

“I’m a software engineer in a company” I decided not to tell about the company name cause interrogation on that is the last thing I wanted. Peace, remember?

“Oh, sounds great,” She said, along with which she began her asanas.

“I like yours better” I admitted, flash-backing in time when I was in 7th grade. It used to be less ‘what I’m supposed to do’ and more ‘what I want to do’. Also less robotic.

“NO!” Her voice pitched high and it almost pushed me out of my thoughts.

“It is very hard Didi, I find it extremely difficult-” she was cut short as sir came in and told us to focus on our asanas.

We did that.

I couldn’t shake what kind of life was she having? I mean, when I was in 7th standard I didn’t care about the world. I do remember complaining about studies but nowhere near like how she did.

“Why is it hard?” unable to contain I found myself saying this to Trisha.

“So many subjects and the boards are from next year-” her voice was low.

 Before leaving, she asked for my social media(s) account address. I was certain she won’t have one. She did.

 “I’ll send you a request” she jumped a little while saying this and quickly took out her phone.

 Ding…. the phone beeped – follow request from Jennifer3.

“Did you get it?” her excitement made me laugh a bit.

I shook my head.

She snatched the phone from my hand “I heard a sound, this is it- Jennifer3 that’s my id, accept and follow me back.”

I was about to ask when she said,“ No it’s not my nickname, I just like this name more, sounds better, more modern, kind of magnetic”.

I just nodded.

“You two seem to have become friends,” Sir said with that constant smile of his.

Smiling is also a part of yoga. Imagine me doing it in front of my boss (who rarely smiles) when she asks me about the reports and they are undone. Not so pleasant anymore.

Returning the ‘smile’ I asked “Umm… I guess she comes here for enjoyment?”

“Yes, of course, plus she needs it, in fact, everyone needs yoga” again that pasted smile.

“Need? WHY?” I was a bit shocked.

He observed me as if analyzing whether or not to tell this forsaken secret, then with a brief pause and raised eyebrows he blurted “She suffers from sleeping disorder and headaches, her mother was concerned that it can take the form of a migraine”.

I took a minute to absorb this, she must be just twelve or thirteen years old.

What kind of world are we building? The number of diabetic patients has hiked, almost all adults suffer from stress and related diseases, but a twelve-year-old? Come on!!                                                  

The next day, we got free early, “Want to stroll around?” I said.

She agreed.

“So… Trisha” I began “Why did you join yoga?”

“Oh it’s simple, I’ve started gaining weight and I might become fat then I won’t look good”.  “But-” I tried to add.

“Then nobody will like my pictures” She went on “Thankfully, there are filters, I don’t like my color either” her face dropped.

Three things popped into my mind-

1.  She was not even near to fat.
2.  She seems to have ‘social media anxiety, a mild one as of now.
3.  Her color was gorgeous and not under her control, she was insecure as she did not want to accept herself as is. 

“You know yesterday I got 47 likes on my picture, please you like my picture too” she implored.

“How often do you use your phone?” I said.

“On a school day- after 7 pm, mom allows me then, on a holiday after every 2-3 hours”. She added “When I upload a picture I check it every 15 minutes to see the number of likes,” she said as she looked at her phone.

“When do you play then?” I don’t, was her reply.

She left, but I couldn’t. I started thinking about all this.

Thankfully, I did not grow up in a ‘socially influenced’ environment. Contrastingly, the number of baskets done, used to be more of a target than the number of likes.

Of course, she’s at a tender age entering her teens, must be conscious about herself, but these ‘approvals’ from others will further deteriorate her confidence. 

I wonder this anxiety for ‘likes’ can leave this generation with insecurity levels higher than ever before. Sometimes, I too feel victimized by this. Glued to phones.

Growing is actually about coming to understand oneself, accepting it with full grace, and making changes for the best. After all, one should like (love) himself/herself then only others can do so. Not accepting one’s true identity, it can render a person lost.

There’s so much to do- books to read, games to play, siblings to irritate, places to go, anything at all but to check the phone every 15 minutes.

Where’s that innocent, sweet, outdoor childhood?

And I thought childhood was the best - no phones, no stress!