Escapist Bent

I've been thinking. And one knows the outcome of such exercises of the cerebral muscles. The mood, which was until a few minutes ago jauntily bopping about, suddenly deflates and rids itself of all frolicking gaiety. And when self can take it no more (read, needs to dispose off whatever the bothersome thing is out of the distressed confines of the cranium); self resorts to this page. This little nook, tucked away in an undistinguished and unknown hide-out of the world wide web, privy to only a select few.

Now that you've been greeted with the most grim of prefaces, I'll arrive at the crux of this post. And the reason for several brainworks and contemplations that I seem to be undergoing these days. It all began with that saucy, yet hard-hitting comment from that insolent-bundle-of-a-pest who also happens to be my sister. "Don't you have a brain of your own?" she snaps at me, "why do you always listen to everything Mom says?" And you know what? For a second there, that always-ready-with-a-smartarse-retort Avanti was stumped. She had no fitting reply with which she could send the audacious interrogator packing, dismissing her as a mere mosquito, meanwhile tut-tutting about how kids these days have no tact or respect for their elders. I let it go, didn't shower much attention on it. And then, just as I was retreating back into good ol' blissful complacency, it happened again. Another pal quips at me - "You're so comfy with your job & the subordination that comes with it. Why aren't you your boss's replacement by now?" Again, I was left speechless. Left to execute some serious thinking-about. And the result goes thus - I don't want to do this ALL my life. Certainly not a 9-6 job. And most definitely, I don't wanna be what others want me to be. My folks want to see me 'settle down', with a 'nice, educated boy' of their choice from a 'respected family' (how the HELL are they gonna accomplish that astonishing feat beats me), have babies that will call them grandpa/grandma, raise the kids, marry them off and then pop off to meet my Maker. They want me to live the exact same dull, monotonous life they've been living all along.

I think I'd positively go mental if I had to follow this roadmap in the future. Is that the purpose of my life? To marry some stranger and manufacture babies? Or say, if I had to follow the advice of my well-meaning friend, should I be a ultra successful biz-baroness? I'd just be another casualty in this infinite rat-race that we seem to be increasingly associating ourselves with. Okay, so you climb the corporate ladder real swift, you're the toast of the business world, you own palatial mansions, a dozen flashy cars and hop across continents in your private jet. Then what? If I had to choose between taking all the money I've earned or the myriad experiences I've had on this lovely planet with me to my grave, I'd choose the latter without doubt. I want to be a rich, plentiful person - the abundance not measured by my bank balance, but what's swimming up there in my head. Memories of the people I've been with and loved to bits, memories of the various things I've learnt - be it playing a guitar or speaking 5 languages, memories of the numerous places I've traveled to & memories of the sights and sounds I've been subject to, good or bad.

So, to all who expect many dazzling things of me (however noble your intentions are), let me tell you this - I just want to be me. Not what you want me to be.