Me
Myself. Myself. Myself. Me. Huh, who am i? From the very little idea I have of how to answer that. I do know one thing definitively and that is- I am someone who does not want to write this essay. See the thing is, I have my own fair share of narcissism. So on a good day I wouldn’t mind talking about myself for hours on end. Okay that last sentence does not entirely hold true. Even with my occasional narcissism, i’m definitely not one to talk for hours on end — about anything at all, let alone myself.
Now that I have to articulate thoughts and put them into somewhat coherent sentences, my mind is entirely blank. It’s TV static. Who am i? I mean i can tell you my name and age and where i grew up but you already know all of that. It’s such a loaded question, do any of us REALLY know enough of ourselves to answer it with justice?
This essay has taken a very sudden existential turn, and this sentence is an attempt to steer clear of going down that perilous road.
For the sake of clarity, I’ll contradict myself and recount these basic things. My name is Avijoy Biswas and i’ve lived in Kolkata for the past 17 years of my life. Speaking of which, i’ll be 18 in a few months. 2, to be exact. Which is something i’m looking forward to immensely. Not just because i will now be a grown adult who’s stupid actions could potentially land him in jail, but because birthdays excite me. A lot.
As much as i’d like to tell you i’m the broody, thoughtful and mysterious hero of every teen rom com who hates birthdays and wears beanies for a living, that would be a lie. I can’t pin point what excites me about birthdays so very much. Perhaps it’s being the center of attention? Or a much less profound reason simply being the gifts and the food. And cake. I love cake.
Now that i have accomplished making this essay about food too, the next paragraph will be about my favourite things to eat and the stories behind it.
I love sushi. All kinds. Prawn happens to be my favourite, but honestly i’ll take whatever’s on the counter. This is particularly strange because for the first 16 years of my life, I never tasted sushi. This is because my parents tried it at a shady restaurant somewhere in dubai before they had me, an unsurprisingly disastrous experience that they never miss a chance to recount. Due to their unfortunate history with the delicacy, I’ve been shot down near-immediately and animatedly retold their horrific experience when I’ve suggested ordering it in on occasion.
I feel a slight obligation to talk about art and design in this essay but i also don’t want to, due to the fact that i’ve already gone through all of that in my previous essay and well, i don’t want to reiterate the very same things and risk losing the readers’ attention span.
Now to capture your attention again, these are my two puppies. The Labrador is a 13 year old baby boy named Softie who loves belly rubs. The beagle, Enzo, is 4 months old and refuses to eat anything that doesn’t have chicken in it. It’s important that I bring them up, because a vast majority of my day revolves around them.
We brought softie home when he was just a bit over a month old. 5 Year old me was clearly an expert at naming because the first time i touched this little ball of joy i couldn’t help but exclaim “soft” (which was a word i had recently learned and was very eager to show it off). Hence came the name Softie. Very creative, I know.
Then around the middle of May this year, I convinced my dad that a dog would be the perfect gift for his 48th birthday. Yes i convinced my dad to get a gift for himself that was really for me, I’m sure that says a lot about how I acquire things I want. Oh how foolish i was, the joy and excitement of having two dogs was blinding, little did i know that one of them would turn out to be the spawn of satan. Haha that was a joke, i could never say that about my dog, i definitely love the bite marks on my hands.
This is less of an essay and more of a documentation of my collective stream of thoughts through the last 20 minutes. Atleast the somewhat coherent ones Unfortunately, my stream of consciousness is nearing its end and hence, so must this essay. To sum things up, I suck at putting thoughts into words, and I hope the last few paragraphs weren’t mumbo jumbo.
Yep, thats about it.
