Random Picture Post.

Pickles sitting beside my laptop, with her tongue out.

With Guppy, on Ma's 47th birthday.

Dewdrops on flower, at Tollygunge Club.

Me at Jude picnic, this year. (Courtesy: Sohini)

Revisiting The Catcher In The Rye.

I re-read The Catcher In The Rye recently. The last time I read it was years back - maybe when I was 13. And I was struck by how my perspective and opinion on the book has changed since then. When I read it then, Holden Caulfield was me - so what if he was an 18-year old fictional American character, and I was a 13-year old real Indian girl? His angst was my angst, his dilemmas were my dilemmas, and his adolescent turmoil was exactly what I identified with.

But when I read it now, I have trouble identifying with Holden. I guess I've changed - yes, we all do, and our outlooks alter over time, with experience and the gradual loss of adolescent anger.

Don't get me wrong, J D Salinger's book is still a great one, the writing is brilliant - and it captures teenage angst and depression extremely well, but it's just that I feel differently about it now. (Shreya's going to kill me for this.)

I've grown up, apparently. Yes, I'm sure in some ways I still identify with Holden's character, but on the whole, I was actually left thinking, "What a wimp, he needs some maturity." But perhaps that's just my maturity speaking, at the risk of sounding presumptous. I suppose it happens to all of us - maybe this is a defining moment for me. I've realised I'm certainly past the "Holden Caulfield Point", and while a little part of me is slightly disconcerted to realise I don't identify with Holden anymore, on the whole- I feel glad that I've grown up. My perspectives may have changed, but I feel I'm more at ease with my adult self.

In a way, I'm glad I re-read the book. It's made me come to terms with the fact that I've moved on. And that my life, too, has moved on.