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Before the world judged who I was through my report cards, I was many things.
Two days after my fifth birthday, I grew restless as I waited for my parents to go to work so I could take the new toy guitar apart to see how the lights and sounds were produced. It was not just a toy for me, but also a puzzle. I wondered if everyone could hear the guitar sounds now. At 9.30 am, I began my work for the day, slowly taking apart tiny screws with my clumsy hands and steady determination. The synchronicity of the lights and sounds from the guitar made me wonder if I could put these lights in a harmonium because then everyone could see harmonium sounds too.
Of course, my parents didn't seem to understand that objects are not only objects but mysteries waiting to be unwrapped. I needed to know how they worked. The springs must be storing energy, and gears must be controlling the speed. My imagination filled the gaps where understanding fell short. I continued and expanded my understanding of the machines, and before I knew it I started building them.
Later that year I saw a washing machine at a friend's home and wanted my mom to have one too. I went to my friend's home, asked aunty to wait for me before switching on the machine. She gladly did so because it meant I would sit silently staring at the machine instead of asking questions. I wondered if I could convert the table fan into making my own machine as the rotational motion looked the same.
But I wasn't allowed to go near it. Then I saw my sister riding my bicycle with extra wheels for stability. I decided this was it. I cut out a bucket, got some fan blades from a junkyard, and put them together. And it worked! My mother was happy that now I would not be going out riding my bicycle on the road.
One of the maths teachers in my school - Subasini - was fascinated when I told her how I made a washing machine at home without electricity. She came to my house to see it too. She then enrolled me in the school science fair.
My parents were skeptical because the minimum age group consisted of children from classes 3-5 and I was in class 1. Nevertheless, I joined and ended up getting the third prize and a special prize for innovation. I was scared to go on to the stage and I was trembling like a leaf when I received the trophies. But it was enough to boost my confidence that I could build anything.
Now, people around me - parents, neighbors, teachers - no one was spared from my questions which had become limitless. My questions looked like this:
How do I build machines?
Are dragons from comic books real?
Can we have a fire spitting dragon as a pet?
How do people on TV know what I want to watch? (I was prohibited from taking apart the TV otherwise I could have found the answer myself).
Some of them got annoyed, some answered me and some of them deflected saying I will find the answers when I grow up.
My sixth birthday came around. My mother got me a children's encyclopedia and asked me to find my answers there. And just like that I became a reader too.
From how toys worked, I moved on to how the world worked. It was my personal Narnia wardrobe. My imagination ran wild from dinosaurs to spaceships. The moon followed me everywhere and I wondered if I could really go to the moon someday.
Among all these topics, my grandmother’s stories of parallel worlds fascinated me the most. She said that whatever I could imagine was already happening in another universe. So, I imagined a world where there were no exams, where I stayed in a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and where I had chocolates for lunch and ice creams for dinner.
My father would say don’t stay up late like an owl, and wake up before sunrise or you will become a donkey. I also heard Abdul Kalam on TV saying you can become anything you want. I put two and two together, and assumed that humans are inferior species and as we grow up we get to choose what animal to become by our habits. One day while reading Amar Chitra Katha I came across Garuda, that majestic eagle-king of the skies who is said to carry Lord Vishnu on his golden wings. Garuda is also a symbol of courage, speed, and boundless devotion.
So, I decided I would become an eagle when I grow up and visit the moon myself. Excited at finding my life’s goal, I started exercising to prepare myself for the flight. My first attempt was to spin like Shaktiman - a superhero who attains his powers through strong spiritual discipline harnessing the energies of the five elements. But then I got dizzy and sick. To help me feel better, my father showed me a helicopter taking off and said that I could buy a ticket to fly when I grew up.
That didn't sit well with me. Aeroplanes looked heavy and I imagined that, like a bus, they would be bound by rules and fixed routes. Birds on the other hand can fly without any tickets, and I felt excited at the prospect of travelling without any destination. I wanted to be able to hear the whisper of the wind beneath my wings. Taste limitless freedom. And so, I decided I would stick to being Garuda when I grow up.
Everyone laughed at me when I voiced my goal. I told myself that that’s because they were disappointed. They were adults and could no longer transform. I needed to just focus on myself and not listen to elders. I did talk to our pet dog. Sometimes I spoke to monkeys and cows on the road but I couldn't understand what they were saying.
I went back to my encyclopedia for the section on birds. I learnt about wings, calculated ratios, compared height, weight, and the surface area to the best I could understand and got to work. All it took was cardboard, Art Attack glue, a few sketchpens and some cellotape.
My summer holidays had just begun, and I got time to work on building my wings. I carved them out of cardboard and colored them to look like an eagle's wings. They were three times my size. I tied the wings to my arms with my mom's dupatta and jumped from the second floor to the ground. I was certain that I would fly. At that moment, I was an inventor who was on the edge of discovering how to transform humans into birds.
Gravity and broken bones said otherwise. But I still asked my mother to bring my notebook. I wanted to see where I had gone wrong. I was sure that it was a calculation mistake and flying meant getting an equation right.
The fall wasn’t just physical. Rules were wrapped more tightly than bandages and everyone looked at me strangely. The biggest disappointment was when my mother’s encouragement and amused tolerance had now taken a different tone. “Be realistic,” “think with your brain for once,” “how can you be so stupid?!” These voices grew louder around me.
Before I realized, I was a teenager negotiating practicality with my imagination. I stopped taking things apart fearing I wouldn't be able to put them back. I stopped asking questions for fear of sounding stupid. I stopped building things, shut down every idea wondering if they would work. I now asked for permission for my existence and obeyed elders.
I rehearsed before I spoke and kept pruning my curiosity to be small to fit in. People praised my quiet obedience till it became second nature.
I fondly remember the young Ananya who believed that the world is something to be understood, dismantled and rebuilt. I hope that she is somewhere out there waiting patiently for me to realize my mistakes, that neither I nor my ideas need to be perfect to exist. I can still choose to follow curiosity even when it leads to uncertainty. I need her now.
