Dear Me, “If I had to live my life again, I’d make the same mistakes, only sooner.”
Do you remember when you first came across this quote almost two decades ago? You wrote it down immediately because it captured what you thought life would be—making mistakes and then regretting them.
But now I realise something different. Life is never really about regretting. It is about embracing the mistakes. Because those “mistakes” are often the very things that shape who we become.
You are eighteen now.
Eighteen is a strange and powerful age. It is the age when the world still feels wide open, when courage often arrives before caution, and when you believe that barriers are meant to be challenged.
Whenever I think of that age, I remember a few lines by the poet Sukanta Bhattacharya:
আঠারোবছরবয়সেরনেইভয়
পদাঘাতেচায়ভাঙতেপাথরবাধা,
এ বয়সেকেউমাথানোয়াবারনয়—
আঠারোবছরবয়সজানেনাকাঁদা।
Eighteen is fearless. Eighteen wants to break through barriers. Eighteen does not know how to bow its head.
Hold on to that spirit.
Because as the years pass, the world will slowly try to teach you caution. It will suggest that you become quieter, safer, more predictable. But the courage of eighteen—the refusal to bow, the instinct to question, the confidence to move forward—is something you must protect.
Keep writing poetry. Not because one day you might publish it, but because the words you gather and bind in your poems will eventually begin to unwind you. Those quiet, shackled words will one day liberate your thoughts and your aspirations.
Sketch. Draw. Paint. Don’t worry if you paint the shadow on the wrong side.
In life, grammar does not matter. You cannot use double negatives in a sentence, but life will give you double, triple, even quadruple negatives. And yet somehow the meaning will still emerge.
There will be times when all you want to do is move forward. That instinct is natural. But remember this: life can only be lived forward, yet it can only be understood backwards.
As you add days to your years, you will be questioned—by your peers, and sometimes by yourself. Most of those questions will revolve around the choices that slowly begin to shape your goals and ambitions.
Believe me, some of those choices will be remarkably good ones. Some will be bold enough to make people raise their eyebrows—bold enough, at times, to make you doubt yourself.
But listen carefully: never doubt yourself.
One day someone will ask why you left behind a career as a doctor to become a diplomat. They will ask whether it was worth it.
Take it from me, speaking to you from almost three decades ahead: it has been worth taking the risk.
Curiosity might have killed the cat in some other century. But in our time curiosity is what keeps you alive—alive, alight, and enlightened.
Read every day, even if it is just a page or a paragraph. When you begin to peek into the brilliant minds of those who came before you, you will slowly discover something humbling: how little you know—and how little any of us truly know.
But remember something equally important. Humility must never mean learning to shrink—especially not because you are a woman.
You will face obstacles, barriers, and doubts. But every problem carries within it the possibility of a solution. The tools you will need are already within you—your mind, your wit, your patience, and your perseverance.
Love unconditionally. But first, let yourself be your first love.
Be prepared for heartbreak as well. After every disappointment you will learn to stand up again. Over time you will discover within yourself the quiet strength to rise again—every single time.
Stay close to Ammu and Abbu. Call them often. Their quiet faith in you will carry you through many uncertain moments.
And somewhere along the journey, you will meet a little version of yourself—a tiny “mini me”—who will teach you love in ways you cannot yet imagine.
So, my dear eighteen-year-old self, walk into the world with courage and curiosity. The road ahead will be long and unpredictable—but it will also be beautiful and exciting.
Hold on to the fearless spirit of eighteen.
Hold on to it when life becomes complicated.
Hold on to it when the world tells you to be smaller.
Hold on to it when doubt creeps in.
Because that fearless eighteen-year-old is still you.
Always.
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