<img title="Illustration/ Ravi Jadhav" src="https://images.mid-day.com/images/2018/mar/Paromita-Draw.jpg" alt="Illustration/ Ravi Jadhav" /> Illustration/ Ravi Jadhav
<img style="float: left;" title="Paromita Vohra" src="https://images.mid-day.com/images/2018/mar/Paromita-Vohra.jpg" alt="Paromita Vohra" />Every few years, when the authorities want proof of who I am, I start searching for school leaving certificates, and rediscover my old report cards. It always turns into a half hour of time travel, encountering a past self, seen through others' eyes.
I found myself both recognisable and unrecognisable in report cards. Going by teachers' remarks, I seem to have been a diligent and well-behaved kid, happy with the world of knowledge. This is a description I would still apply to myself (go ahead, laugh). But sometimes, the child described is unfamiliar: "A quiet and friendly child," was one comment. While no one would call me quiet today, everyone would agree I am friendly. Yet, I don't remember being anything but awkward and, in fact, friendless. Is my memory false? Was I pretending in school to be okay, while feeling lost? Or, has my memory exaggerated my hardships? Will knowing the "truth" change my relationship with myself and others? Maybe. Or not.
Merit certificates that I don't remember getting, inform that I was good at dictation, reading, and drawing. Drawing? I do remember being good at it, in my own odd way, until I went to a school, where my art teacher, right or wrong, preferred more conventional skills. I remember being disappointed, but perhaps I was lazy, and stopped doing what received no praise, while turning towards writing and language skills, leaving behind the me who liked to draw. I am unlikely to recover that self and perhaps that is alright. If I loved drawing that much, wouldn't I have rescued it from my teachers' narrow gaze and nurtured it? Or, maybe not. But, how much of life can after all be protected from the challenges we encounter? Must we tend each ability and quality like rare plants? Perhaps all loss is not tragedy, but simply the collateral damage of living.
Many remarks make me laugh &mdash; "does not waste time uselessly" is one. Well, there was no Internet those days, na. "Tranquil and well-behaved" is another. Tranquility is something I associate with people, who have good skin and yoga cred, not my restless, workaholic self. I was probably daydreaming in that teacher's class. "You still are tranquil!" responds a friend. "You aren't ragey and in today's terms that is pretty tranquil." Sometimes, you can receive an on-the-spot report card and the approval is thrilling. Should one enjoy its warmth or fear its addiction?
To always be clear-eye and alert about the self can sometimes be too much of a reality check, or too pompous, but also, too lonely. To see oneself as others do, can undermine our sense of self, or reduce self-doubt and self-hate. To see and be seen is to know and be known, a constant dance and romance with the self. But so too, is remembering and forgetting, a chance of romance with a new self.
My father saved my old report cards, systematically and lovingly filing my many childhoods in one folder, which he gave me when I started working &mdash; to take responsibility of my past as an adult. Part of that care taking, it seems to me, is to forget the past, and rediscover it with the tranquility of knowing that we change, things change, sometimes others are mistaken, sometimes we are, but what's done must also be done with.
Paromita Vohra is an award-winning Mumbai-based filmmaker, writer and curator working with fiction and non-fiction. Reach her at www.parodevipictures.com
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Every few years, when the authorities want proof of who I am, I start searching for school leaving certificates, and rediscover my old report card

Paromita Vohra: Past records

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Paromita Vohra: Past records

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