Dear Reader and Younger me,
The experience of attending high school at DV makes you question your self-worth constantly, and entices you to compare your achievements to others. Because of this, there is a constant unsaid competition occurring between the entire student body. It makes it extremely discouraging to try new things because you may not be good at what you are doing. But by trying regardless of those fears and making mistakes along the way, you’re able to feel fulfilled and understand that perfection will never be the final goal.
As a kid, I would draw. And god was I horrible at it. Even to this day, I can never quite understand the technique and skills that go behind the paintings and sketches I love to admire. But as a little girl, I had no care about how good my drawings were.
The only person’s opinion that mattered to me was my grandpa’s.
Whenever I would visit my grandfather in India we rarely talked. I could barely understand him and he could never decipher my English riddled Bengali. However, a key part in our time together consisted of my drawings.
I can remember drawing whatever my heart desired for hours in a day, and then running over to him, where he’d be sitting on the balcony, yearning for his approval. Even if the art itself was never spectacular or memorable, his smiles in reaction will always stay with me.
My grandpa was one of the few people in my life whose company I could relish with no pressure for conversation. We enjoyed a unique kind of comforting silence in each other’s presence accompanied by the scratches of pencil to paper.
When my grandpa died, I didn’t really understand how to feel. I had never grieved a person in my life before, I was only six. I didn’t see him everyday, but I knew I lost a part of myself when he died.
However, I like to think that the creative connection between my grandpa and I still exists to this day. Later on, my dad showed me the books he wrote. I couldn’t understand them, but I knew he found them to be his way of expressing himself. His creative outlet was his writing. So a part of me likes to think that I write not just for myself, but for him too.
Sometimes, it’s important to recognize that your results may not be perfect, but by trying and expressing your creativity you not only fulfill yourself but you are giving yourself the opportunity to connect with others just like you.
My writing and position in the Tribune allows me to keep the connection with my grandpa alive to this day. It is a way I can continue to enjoy his presence within the silence. And I hope that connection never truly dies.
Love,
your much wiser (and hotter) version of yourself.
