We believe and believe and then believe some more till our faith becomes a series of arithmetic prog

When I say I want Oxford dictionary to replace the word childhood with falsehood I’m 90% joking but also 10% dead-serious. It’s 2009, Ma holds a plate full of veggies and claims if you devour this your hair will grow longer like Rapunzel and your skin will shine like the neon stars above your bed but a certain someone who pops up on television and likes to wear a red shirt told you- Shimla Mirch is the devil’s food.

“five badams a day will multiply the zero brain cells you like to carry” ‘Mc Donald’s happy meal toys are just for show and can’t be bought.’

When we stop believing in old lies we cook up new ones. So, when Baba says Grandma is never going to come back, you think she’s pissed at you for breaking her glasses the last time she was here. You fix them up with glitter tapes and fevi-quicks only for the postmaster to tell you that God lives in space and the celestial world is outside his jurisdiction. Your nasty brother says only aliens and astronauts can go up there and you’re too dumb to be the latter.

There are lies people tell us and then there are lies we tell ourselves. ‘As soon as the wounds of that bad marriage heal, my body will be as good as new.’ ‘Counting backward will stop this monstrous anxiety attack’ ‘If I vomit out this dinner it’ll be like I never ate it.’ ‘A small bottle of sanitizer is enough protection I need from a deadly-global pandemic.’ We believe and believe and then believe some more till our faith becomes a series of arithmetic progression where the common difference is only our inner misery and Maths has never been our strong suit.

Riya Sharma

#RiyaSharma

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