It’s Not Just Girls! A Guide to Puberty for Indian Boys
Ah, puberty. That enchanting phase when your body decides to revolt, your voice mimics a frog’s croak, and deodorant becomes your trusty sidekick. But for a 14-year-old like me in India, puberty isn’t just about physical changes — it’s a social and cultural maze. Brace yourselves, because I’m about to narrate a humorous (yet sometimes exasperating) expedition through the awkward terrain of Indian middle-class puberty.
Firstly, let’s address the obvious: the absence of comprehensive sex education in Indian schools. It’s more like hearing whispers about the mythical “Stork.” My puberty knowledge came from a worn-out biology textbook with abstract diagrams. So, when my voice decided to mimic a kazoo during roll call, the confusion was immense. Luckily, my friend Shashank managed to get a sketchy pamphlet from a shady pharmacy, answering many of our questions (and some we didn’t even ask — apparently, bananas have surprising uses!).
Then there’s the issue of physical changes. Forget about muscular bodies and deep voices; my puberty focused on the unconventional. My voice transformed from a squeak to a foghorn, and I suddenly sported a patchy “pre-beard,” as my mom optimistically called it. It did little to ease my concerns about resembling a perpetually surprised werewolf cub.
Sports period was another challenge. I was a bundle of limbs and awkwardness, struggling with cricket while fearing my voice might crack mid-game. It wasn’t pretty. My attempts at fielding resembled a headless chicken trying to catch a flying saucer, and my batting was about as graceful as a drunk flamingo on roller skates. The only saving grace was Shashank, who made me look like a pro in comparison.
Socialising? It was a nightmare. Talking to girls felt impossible. My rehearsed jokes flopped, and my attempts at “casual leaning” seemed like I was trying to arrest a runaway shoelace. And then there were the aunties lecturing about focusing on studies instead of girls. Seriously, aunties, have you seen my maths scores?
But amidst the awkwardness, there were moments of pure hilarity. Like when I accidentally called my biology teacher “Mom” during a dissection. Or when Shashank’s high-five ended with his elbow meeting my nose (yes, there was blood). These moments, shared with my equally awkward friends, became cherished memories in this new world.
Hello, mood swings — the emotional rollercoaster ride that makes us feel like we’re juggling a dozen different personalities. One moment, we’re laughing uproariously at a friend’s joke, and the next, we’re sulking in a corner for no apparent reason. It’s as if our emotions have a mind of their own, swinging from euphoria to melancholy in the blink of an eye. Trying to navigate these turbulent waters while keeping a semblance of composure becomes a daily challenge, leaving us feeling like bewildered actors in the theatre of our own lives.
And then there’s the perpetual state of confusion that seems to accompany every aspect of puberty. From deciphering the cryptic signals of attraction to grappling with existential questions about our place in the world, confusion becomes our constant companion. We find ourselves questioning everything, from our beliefs and values to our aspirations and desires, in a desperate attempt to make sense of the tumultuous changes unfolding within and around us.
But perhaps the most unexpected — and often mortifying — aspect of puberty is the sudden rush of blood to certain parts of our anatomy, leading to abrupt erections at the most inconvenient of times. Whether it’s in the middle of a boring lecture or during a family gathering, these spontaneous surges of arousal leave us scrambling for cover, desperately trying to conceal the evidence of our body’s betrayal. It’s a humbling reminder of our newfound vulnerability, as we grapple with the bewildering mix of embarrassment and fascination that accompanies this peculiar phenomenon.
And let’s not forget the other “symptoms” of puberty — the awkward growth spurts that leave us feeling like clumsy giants in a world designed for smaller beings, the acne that seems to erupt overnight like tiny volcanoes on our faces, and the sudden awareness of our own mortality as we come face to face with the fragility of our bodies and the inevitability of change.
Reflecting on puberty in middle-class India, it was a rollercoaster of emotions — frustrating, confusing, and often embarrassing. But it was also a time of self-discovery, forging friendships, and embracing the messy journey of adolescence. To my fellow Indian teens navigating the puberty paradox, I say: embrace the awkwardness, laugh at the stumbles, and remember, you’re not alone. We’ll navigate this together, one questionable moustache at a time.
