Trusting that Gut

 In the general timeframe of 2008 or class three, I was faced with a new situation. I became disillusioned about what I knew and how much more I had to learn. The process was not easy, and it was even harder because of this difficulty I had with interpersonal relationships.

All this to say that I was very insecure about what I thought I knew and what I actually knew. Every new idea was accompanied by the doubt, "What if I'm wrong?"

One day, our school organized a trip to a nearby grocery store. We were going to learn to manage our money and deal with a real-world setting. We all had a budget of ten rupees. 

I don't remember my criteria for buying something, but I do remember being partial to stationery (because I still am). I saw a pack of pencils: Natraj, pack of ten, the kind that every kid wanted to have and you were the "cool kid" if you did. I wanted desperately to buy them.

I was admiring the pack from a distance: it was on a shelf and there was still some space between the shelf and me, so that people could easily walk by. Two students passed in front of me and were attracted to the same pack of pencils. Then they looked at the price:

3.00

...and they interpreted it as three hundred. They walked away.

Somehow, I knew they were wrong. I don't remember the why or how. I just knew that I had seen three hundred written before, and I knew how prices were written. Three hundred did not look like that.

I was already insecure about what I knew. I didn't want my classmates to have more reason to tease me than they already did. Maybe they did know better.

So I left the pack of pencils alone.

I don't remember what I bought instead. I just remember the regret of not buying that pack. And later when I actually learned about why prices were written the way they were and the concept of decimals, I knew I had been right.

Nearly fourteen years later, trusting myself still proves to be a difficult exercise.