Knowing Thyself

Arun was not my best friend in school. He wasn’t even in the ‘inner circle’. But he was a nice boy – kind and helpful. He always had a smile on his face, warm and innocent. Though we were both in the same class from Grade I, I never had the good fortune of getting to know him personally until Grade 7. His bus reached early and dad had to drop me in school on the way to his office. As a result, both of us reached class almost 45 minutes early. What started with Good Mornings and Hi-Hello’s gradually evolved into heated debates about school house teams and playing a quick game of shuttle everyday with the other boys before the daily assembly.

One distinct memory I have of Arun is the time we were discussing our school captain’s small but famous tattoo. It was a swastika on his left biceps, most of it hidden while wearing the school uniform but shown just enough to draw the attention of students and teachers alike. Students loved it while the latter couldn’t decide what to do about it. There were lengthy arguments amongst teachers whether the boy was a huge fan of Hitler or an ardent devotee trying to invoke good luck through spirituality.  Obviously, that didn’t matter to us much (He was way out of our league!) except for the fact that it got us thinking about what we would like to have if we ever got a tattoo.

I had come up with a few options and finally settled on the face of the Bull for two reasons. One, my sun-sign was Taurus and people who know me could easily attribute most of my characteristic behaviours to the ‘bull’ (ahem!); two, smaller the better, considering how painful it was to get a tattoo done. Happy with my choice, I asked Arun what he’d prefer but all he did was smile and say, ‘I’ll show you!’. I was curious about it the whole day and made a list of things that Arun would have liked. The good (read ‘sensible’) ones from my list included Johnny Bravo, Popeye and Batman. I made a note of them all thinking I’ll discuss with him the next morning. But Arun was a step ahead than I thought. That evening, before we all left for home he came to me and placed a piece of paper on my desk. I instantly knew it was the tattoo and quickly opened to see if it was as good as what I had in mind for him. Frankly I was disappointed! In it, five letters were written in black ink and beautiful calligraphy – thrive.

Of course, I knew what ‘thrive’ meant - our biology teacher who was also a passionate gardener had made sure of that. Arun was an artist alright but why a tattoo with this word? Maybe I could explain to him that Batman was way cooler. But like all other teenage discussions, we totally forgot about this. Or maybe just I did. After completing Grade 7, I moved to another country and school. New friends were made and Arun along with a few others receded to the archives of my brain.

Fifteen years have passed. Arun is now Archana, a very enthusiastic boutique owner. Her new features have not taken away her charm and innocence. We meet occasionally over cups of coffee where I can’t help but notice her radiant smile and gentle laughter while we recollect old memories and in the process, create new ones. She is scarred, but happy; tired, but relentless; emotional, but free. The process of knowing thyself is, in itself, one that calls for courage and the indomitable will to stand tall in the face of ridicule and criticism. But when you act on your reflections and work towards being thyself, you begin the extraordinary process of polishing and filing yourself, only to emerge stronger and soar higher.