I saw a notice on the notice board the other day. It said ‘New library for kids in flat no. xxx.’ ‘This notice doesn’t concern us anymore does it?’ I jokingly remarked to my friend, who was standing next to me. She looked a little hurt. “I was going to take a look", she said. “For your little brother?” “No, for me. We’re still kids, aren’t we?” On children’s day, another friend asked me if I was participating in the children’s day event in the apartment. " No. Are you?” I replied, thinking ‘We’re too old for such things.’ I was about to say that out loud when he said, ‘Yes, I’m dancing.’ Both incidents left me a little taken aback. When had I started classifying myself as not-a-kid? At twelve, I was officially too old for the children’s playground in the apartment complex . At seventeen, I was too old to attend the summer theatre workshops at Ranga Shankara. On my eighteenth birthday, society decided that I was an adult. That...