Several months
after turning 30, after over a decade of being able to vote, drive and consume
alcohol (except in Maharashtra, where I’ve been legally drinking only since the past 5 years!), I can say I feel
like an adult. However, before you jump to conclusions - this post isn’t going
to be a rant about the dark side of adulting – the endless chores, bills and
to-do lists.
(I’ll save that for a post about the privileges of moving to a “developed”
country, i.e. where one is confronted daily with classic cases of choice
overload. Choices are abundant e.g. disposing of garbage into the appropriate
bin, which of the myriad of highly specific Sunday-quiet day laws to break,
what obscure cycling-traffic rules to ignore, and the like.)
Adulting came
to me in a big bundle, which is why I am so aware of it having arrived. The
same time that I turned 30, I started to work at the organisation I had set my
sights on years ago. I also moved to my very own little apartment, in a small
(by my standa…