Oh life, when did I grow up?
From being that quirky, creative girl who used to host puppet shows, sell her paintings and drawings to relatives—no, force them to buy them.
Making weird little experiments in the kitchen, always wide-eyed, always fascinated by the world.
That girl—so full of wonder—is now struggling to tap into the creative magic she once had.
Silenced by how the world works.
This harsh, structured world dimmed her bright, open mind and nudged her into walking the same well-trodden path everyone else seemed to follow.
Get a degree. Maybe one more. And another.
Chasing proof that she, too, can “make it”—just like everyone else.
Oh, to be that 5-year-old Twinkle again,
With zero worries in her head, tagging along with her dad, insisting on teaching math and nursery rhymes to high-ranking officials—fearless, shameless, free.
But then puberty hit.
At 12, I started to shut down.
There were other reasons too, but maybe I’ll save that for another blog.
By 15, I was worrying about careers and Science.
Running the same race as everyone else.
Ironic, isn’t it?
Fast-forward to now—I’m a professor in a deemed university.
A title that holds weight, a role that makes sense.
But deep inside, there’s still this quiet, aching hole in my soul.
One that yearns for more.
Something softer, something uniquely mine. Something creative.
Till 24, I was scared.
I dreaded turning 25—it felt like half my life was already over.
But now I wonder:
Am I not too young to feel this old?
My mom often scolds me, “Aren’t you too old for this?”
But recently, I watched a series on Netflix—When Life Gives You Tangerines.
In one episode, the 50-year-old protagonist says,
“When will I grow up?”
And that stuck with me.
Maybe we never really grow up.
We just gain experience.
We learn. We adapt.
But the heart?
It always stays young.
twinks in bloom 
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