Some of my best friends are teenagers

(This is what I wrote for Westland India's proposed book, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul. I subsequently took back my piece as I found the publisher and their representatives a tad un-nourishing (see earlier blogs). It has been now carried in various places, so no loss, none at all.)


I have always liked teenagers. When I was little, a bunch of them swarmed around me to pinch my cheeks; then when I was a little older, a gawky adolescent, I watched with shock and awe as my teenaged sister and her friends laughed, cried, and fought their way through their teens. When I was a teenager myself, of course there was no one better to hang loose with than my own herd, doing things that ranged from the sublime to the absurd to the downright dangerous. In my mid-20s, just a few jumps away from teenage, it was teen colleagues who expertly clued me in to the computers that overnight appeared in our office. That's the thing about teenagers; they're afraid of nothing. While I would jab in fear at the keyboard (having only ever 'driven' a typewriter before that), and watch with dismay as entire screens of my work would vanish, there would always be a teenager at hand who would saunter down to my desk, ask me to take a chill-pill, and make it all come back.

In my 30s I have often come home to the treasured sight of a teenaged baby-sitter curled up on the sofa with my dog and six-year-old child - fed, walked, entertained and safe. So you see, I find it hard to agree when people use labels like "irresponsible, selfish, rude, careless" about teenagers. I've seen plenty of them study, volunteer, bring smiles to their grandma's face, handle their own heartbreaks, and have loads of fun – all in one day. How many of us can claim to do that!

Now, in my 40s, I have many teenaged friends – some of them started out being godchildren, but today 'my friends' is the more appropriate word for them. Because, while I may hold their hand through a crisis or two, they bring their robust and resilient minds and bodies to sort out the ups and downs of my life too.

They come, these friends of mine, from all kinds of places. There's a couple of them from rural India…a bunch of them are urban teens, children of friends…another handful are students from the US. Widely varying backgrounds, but with so many endearing teenage traits in common. A ready grin that can quickly turn into a delightful belly-laugh. An ability to feel and express genuine sadness, anger, hurt – and to help you deal with some of it too. An insistence on living in the here-and-now.

They have huge appetites coupled with honest reactions. So one day your lasagna will get a standing ovation, and the next day your attempts at making chicken biryani will be met with a: "err…next time let's order this take-away"! They can rescue you from your hair and wardrobe rut by marching you down to the right places and ordering you to try on new cuts and colours. They can badger you to take that lipid-profile test. They show you how to angle your foot correctly so that you come down from a hill-climb without careening down in a silly heap. They know lots of useful stuff, these teenagers.

Of course they leave things half-eaten and uncovered in the fridge; of course they can frustrate your attempts at bird-watching by laughing and talking loud enough to startle every bird in a one-mile radius. Of course they can change your cell-phone language to Chinese 'just-for-fun'. Of course they drop and spill and mop up in the most casual way. And of course they go away, sometimes, to some deep inaccessible place inside of themselves, where all you can get from them is a weary-sounding 'Whatever'.

But most times, there's nothing quite like the teenager's sheer energy, irreverence, buoyancy and can-do take on life. One of my favourite moments with my teenaged friends? When I retire to bed and fall asleep to the sound of their chatter downstairs – it's nearing midnight, way past my bedtime…but their night is still young.