I don’t know about you but I was always in a hurry to grow up real fast, like Maggi noodles in straight 2 minutes. If given a choice would prefer to adorn the Bollywood style where the lead actor would sing and dance on his way to adulthood. No books, no studies (read no Maths) and all the freedom to do watch uninterrupted TV. Adulthood was eagerly awaited by me.
And now, when I am all grown-up battling each day in this big bad world. I often ponder, “Gosh! Where was the hurry to grow-up?” And I definitely do miss the good old days when:
A heartbreak meant “missing the-all-so precious Chitrahaar aired only twice a week in Doordarshan”.
A rejection meant “missing the lifetime role of Juliet in the Annual Day English Play because I am taller than the supposedly Romeo and sported the low maintenance boy-cut hairdo which is beyond anything remotely girlie”.
A problem meant “inability to solve the algebra equation in exchange of being granted the permission to watch the 1-hr long Mahabharata, which was roaring its announcement with the blaring volume of the next-door neighbour’s Idiot Box making me go completely numb and dumb”.
Tension meant “disclosing to Dad that I have successfully retained my record of scoring the lowest marks in Maths in the entire class despite his warnings of sending me to Hostel.”
Infatuation meant “head over heels with the brand new Barbie my uncle gifted to me and more importantly none of my friends could claim to own one because it was imported from China”.
Financial stability meant “being able to afford 1 orange bar ice cream (priced at Rs.5) daily and perhaps a rare bhelpuri (priced at Rs.10) once a week.”
An appraisal meant “being promoted as the Class Prefect of a bunch of boisterous lot of whom yours truly was the ring leader and the best political devise utilized aptly by the Class Teacher to keep the class in control.”
Such was life and now years after I miss the simplicity of those old days. Guess I too was simple enough to cherish the precious moments of yester years. Otherwise, who would in their wildest dream wanted to desert the safe haven of innocence and grow up in no time?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Mad or what?
Just the other day somebody screamed at me,” Are you mad?” I feigned deafness. But honestly speaking aren’t we all mad in ways that we are completely unaware?
The industry I belong to is quite infamous for being the legal asylum for insane people. And I don’t have much to regret. This is what keeps us going and makes us little less mundane (with all the due respect).
But aren’t we all in the same boat? If not, then how could you explain?
• Women traveling far and spending double the amount to avail of the discount scheme, even if that means being sandwiched among smelly equally enthusiastic crowd to return in one piece
• The maddening “me first” competition every weekday morning to rush to office, even if that means honking continuously at a traffic signal flashing the immobile Red that even a blind wouldn’t miss
• Hunting for a bride who is rich (able to afford a grand dowry), fair complexioned, convent educated, highly qualified yet homely and domesticated. Even if the groom has never seen a college from inside, charcoal black complexioned, miserably under qualified and jobless
• Hopelessly hopeful about getting back in shape and looking good, when battering the eyelid is the only voluntary exercise you indulge in and oil-soaked food is a must have in the diet plan
• Cribbing about the unhygienic state of the neighbourhood, when all you do is dump the garbage bag in the vacant plot just adjacent (it's lying vacant you see, so who cares)
• Complaining about the sorry state of this country, when all you do is sit back and wait for your turn to fly abroad hopefully to never return (be as an illegal migrant in a room where you’ve to fight for every breath)
We all seem to be losing it. Yet we don’t miss a chance in calling each other by this infamous adjective. So what if I sing to myself while driving, shake my leg in public to my kind of music or talk to the dog about issues as serious as Indo-Pak relations? At least I am harmless.
The industry I belong to is quite infamous for being the legal asylum for insane people. And I don’t have much to regret. This is what keeps us going and makes us little less mundane (with all the due respect).
But aren’t we all in the same boat? If not, then how could you explain?
• Women traveling far and spending double the amount to avail of the discount scheme, even if that means being sandwiched among smelly equally enthusiastic crowd to return in one piece
• The maddening “me first” competition every weekday morning to rush to office, even if that means honking continuously at a traffic signal flashing the immobile Red that even a blind wouldn’t miss
• Hunting for a bride who is rich (able to afford a grand dowry), fair complexioned, convent educated, highly qualified yet homely and domesticated. Even if the groom has never seen a college from inside, charcoal black complexioned, miserably under qualified and jobless
• Hopelessly hopeful about getting back in shape and looking good, when battering the eyelid is the only voluntary exercise you indulge in and oil-soaked food is a must have in the diet plan
• Cribbing about the unhygienic state of the neighbourhood, when all you do is dump the garbage bag in the vacant plot just adjacent (it's lying vacant you see, so who cares)
• Complaining about the sorry state of this country, when all you do is sit back and wait for your turn to fly abroad hopefully to never return (be as an illegal migrant in a room where you’ve to fight for every breath)
We all seem to be losing it. Yet we don’t miss a chance in calling each other by this infamous adjective. So what if I sing to myself while driving, shake my leg in public to my kind of music or talk to the dog about issues as serious as Indo-Pak relations? At least I am harmless.
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