On paper, the age of becoming an adult is 18 years in India, though it may vary across countries and regions. However, not everyone becomes an adult on their 18th birthday. There is always a moment in everybody’s life when the dawn of adulthood suddenly arrives. This is not a universal formula, though. Some people may still act childishly even at 22 years of age (no offence to some people from college).

I recently experienced this sudden realisation of adulthood in the past 15 days. Two incidents in particular made me realise: Mannat, you are an adult.

First Trip Without Parents

Recently, I went to Shimla with my brother and two friends. All three of them were younger than me, and naturally, this made me the trip leader and manager of these kiddos. It sounds fun to lead and be the smartest one among them, but when it comes to actual action, the idea suddenly feels like a disaster. Reality hits, and you begin overthinking all the possible things that might go wrong.

Suddenly, you start checking everyone’s location every ten minutes, counting heads repeatedly, and mentally preparing emergency plans for situations that probably will never even happen.

A stranger looking at you might be thinking about kidnapping one of these kiddos, their head might bump into a tree if they keep it out of the toy train’s window, and even the cab driver might start looking suspicious.

Though the kiddos I went with are not real kiddos. What I mean is that all of them are capable of looking after themselves. But by virtue of being the eldest in the group, and having travelled more than the three of them combined (this being my third trip of the year, though the earlier ones were for moot court competitions and thus do not count as real trips), it became my duty to assume that none of them possessed survival skills and that I was the one responsible for looking after them.

However, all of us enjoyed the tour. It was fun. We stayed there for two days and, thankfully, none of us died. We even survived the supercalifragilisticexpialidocious driving skills of the cab driver who took us to Jakhu Temple, which reminded us of our maternal grandmothers (nanis!).

And here we are, back home, safe and happy.

Yet somewhere between booking hotels, negotiating with cab drivers, and ensuring everyone ate on time, I unknowingly started behaving like an adult.

Elections

This year, I participated in a moot court competition on the 129th Constitutional Amendment Bill concerning “One Nation, One Election.” I travelled to Ahmedabad for the oral rounds, which is more than 1000 kilometres away from my home. During the entire three-month preparation period, I never doubted myself.

However, the hands of this strong, independent girl trembled while standing in front of the ballot box for the very first time- yes, ballot box, because apparently, the Punjab State Election Commission could not procure EVMs from Tamil Nadu and West Bengal in time.

And whom did I vote for? NOTA. Yes, NOTA.

When I told one of my friends this, he said, “Mannat, you love constitutional law and still voted for NOTA, despite knowing it does not actually matter.”

But I had my reasons. And for the first time, those reasons did not feel emotional or impulsive. They felt political, ethical, and deeply personal at the same time.

I had a reason not to vote for the man who was caught distributing alcohol to the poor a day before the elections. I had a reason not to vote for the man who came to my house seeking votes and judged me for wearing shorts in my own home. I had reasons not to vote for the other two candidates either, who did not even make an effort to make people aware of the fake promises they were supposed to make.

And consequently, with no better option left, I had to vote for NOTA. I hate the idea of wasting my first-ever vote. I hate the feeling I had while standing in the election booth with a stamp in my hand, the weight of being a civilised citizen of a beloved nation with no actual option to choose from.

I hate the idea of NOTA. What is the point of providing the public with a technically useless option? The ideal condition (maybe not ideal; perhaps I am exaggerating too much) would be that all candidates should be replaced with a fresh set of candidates if NOTA wins, and the elections should be conducted again.

Though perhaps NOTA has never truly won because people who are smarter than fools like me already know that voting for NOTA does not really lead anywhere, and therefore choose not to vote for it.

I Am an Adult?

Hence, navigating these two incidents finally made me realise that I can be an adult or at least act like one.

Maybe I might sound childish to some and too mature for my age to others, but officially, I am an adult. And with adulthood comes responsibilities. Some responsibilities are exciting and empowering, while others quietly arrive with fear, confusion, and the uncomfortable awareness that childhood is slowly disappearing.

You can no longer procrastinate and avoid thinking about your future or your career. You cannot run back into your mother’s arms and declare, “Mumma! I do not want to study further. I am not going to school.” You cannot play in the streets anymore without being judged by neighbourhood aunties. And as a girl, you cannot wear short dresses anymore because suddenly your legs are sexualised.

You slowly realise that adulthood is not only about independence. It is also about constantly being observed, evaluated, and expected to behave in socially acceptable ways, even when you are still figuring yourself out internally.

This is what I would call the weight of being an adult.

It is the strange transition where freedom and fear arrive together. One day, you are excited to grow up, travel alone, vote, and make your own decisions. And the next day, you realise that every decision carries responsibility, guilt, anxiety, and consequences.

Perhaps adulthood is not about becoming mature overnight. Perhaps it is simply the moment when the world slowly stops treating you like a child, even when a part of you still feels like one.

And maybe that is the heaviest part of all.

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