I don't know the truths about myself, and neither I know lies. I'm afraid if I tell you 2 lies and 1 truth, they all might turn out to be lies or maybe all true. I can't for the life of me find out the difference, almost as if I don't know myself at all. Maybe you'd know better.
So, here goes...
When I was little, I was a very girly girl and I had a room full of dolls. I'd host the Bangla version of tea parties which is hari patil khela where all my friends in the neighborhood would join and my mother would call the aunties to actually cook some food so that we kids won't be eating leaves from flower plants. Although many of those times have been forgotten and many of those tiny toy utensils were either broken or lost, only to be replaced.
You know as many times as I have heard, people cheating on their exam sheets and how thrilling it was, it never had been appealing, although I had cheated in exams quite a few times. But my first encounter wasn't by my choice, I had to participate. It was when I was in Class 6, writing down all the math answers that I and my friend did it. I was at first reluctant, but then I realized, she offered her math paper as willingly as she took my sheets from my desk. In a way, she helped me and I helped her.
I love to draw, but I don't draw anymore. I had a little sketchbook, where I'd sketch anything that came to my underdeveloped mind, with pencil or pen whichever I could find at the moment. It gave me a lot of time to hone my skills and with time I had gotten pretty good at it. But sadly, as I was growing up, the pressure from studies went up and I had to shove that little artist side of me. If only I hadn't done that. Sometimes I do wish to pick up that pencil and scribble again to see what comes out.
My lies and my truth, can you guess which is which? It may not be very hard to pick out, but let's see how fun it becomes.
Photo credit:He Who Must Not Be Named