A week back, I got a mail. Not an e-mail, which is weird but a hand written letter enclosed in a brown paper envelope. Just like the one I always carry in case I get lost on some distant land due to my desperate search for adventure.
Only my name in its front. No address. No telephone number. Nobody besides Facebook and 9gag send me emails. It was far from real for me to receive a letter. I was hoping it was a message from another world or maybe a treasure map. Because damn, which 15 year old didn’t want adventure in the torturous heap of giant textbooks and notes.
I was at school trying to create my space ship when this piece of paper landed at my residence arousing doubt and suspicion in the mind of my joint family, that had the thought process of torturing me likewise; joint. So when I set foot on the threshold of my home, my sister who otherwise never spoke to me handed me the letter, “family’s” I tell you, no sense of privacy. I mean teenagers need that, right?
So my dusty hands harvest the already once harvested grain out of its husk to find the already read before letter that was clearly sent for me. Only to read,”Red Ranger, please report to the Pride Rock before you fall into the black hole and start sending yourself anonymous letters (from outer space) telling you to fix your future which technically is your past. I’m watching you. This isn’t a joke.’
P.S. Don’t watch interstellar ever again.
And that explains why my family finds me weird and my obsession with power rangers, remotely associated with the lion king and other movies having anything to do with space.
Damn, I am one sorted out person.
-Saaranga Shetty 11B