There was a time when I cared about what other people thought of me. Not that I would spend hours thinking about it, frankly, that was never me, but I just knowing how other people interpreted my actions. (For example, this time when I had kicked a volleyball to the wall so it would bounce and I won’t have to bend to pick it. That person thought I was ‘creative’. If you understand, please explain his higher-order thinking.) What information they noticed… what I may have unknowingly given away though that’s very rare even when I have never had to hide anything.
There was a time when I liked those Truth and Dare games when everyone would be given a tag, one word, to everyone playing. Sometimes I joined those meaningless spins for just that. For a short while I even enjoyed those Fb Apps where you similarly wrote something about your friends to earn coins (which by the way, seemed so vintage. Like, coins?!) so you could unlock what your friends said about you. Yeah, go on, pull a face.
So my point is, there was a time when I liked knowing what others, duds and dudes alike, thought of me. And I had all the ingenious ways in the world to get the words out. And that time is still here. 😀
I recently got to know from a friend who has grown pretty close in the past two years that she, until yesterday, yes YESTERDAY, thought that I wasn’t much of an Indian culture lover. The thing is, I am a pretty knowledgeable person when it comes to histories or cultures of other countries. Not that I am a scholar, but since everyone else is pretty ignorant on a very very general basis, I am instantly somewhat of a computer. So even she, EVEN she, thought that I preferred western cultures, with all their speed and glam, to India’s mixed culture. (Because you see, we are like stuck between the ages.) And the moment she said that, the very moment, I went so bally-eyed and so gorilla-looking with a long face that she said- “Uh, okay. I take it back. Please stop whatever you are doing.”
But then a wave of perceived identities started. Of course we didn’t call it that. No normal teenager calls anything ‘perceived identity’. I just did, I know, but then I’m writing a blog post and I try desperately to sometimes sound intelligible.
So with this identity wave, we started asking each other to give in a sentence what we thought of each other. And then suddenly, that very day, I discovered on a favourite blogger’s post- A Hogwarts House Sorting Test.
Of course! The Sorting Hat is supposed to be the master judge of character isn’t it? So.. try my luck? Of course, I was expecting/hoping/wanting/believing Griffindor. (Choose your word, they all pretty much overlap.)
What would you do if you saw a friend cheating? Sure, I would… A little kid wrongly accuses me of stealing his toy? Oh-kay, I… A very strong man approaches you and wants your lunch? Like that’s a question.
So- done, done, done. Okay. Sort me, Sorting Hat!
I am….. Ravenclaw?
“The sorting hat says:
Your in-depth results are:
Ravenclaw – 13
Hufflepuff – 12
Gryffindor – 12
Slytherin – 7 ”
I am Ravenclaw? Somehow I find it pretty surprising. I wasn’t even thinking Ravenclaw when I gave that test. I also sort of forgot it existed…
Hold on. Ravenclaw=Brains.
But notice that Griffindor was only a POINT behind. Maybe I;m the other side of Hermoine, while she tipped it slightly to Griffy, I went to Rave. Cool. If only this Sorting was done at the Castle and four years ago.