Today my mom successfully blackmailed me into cleaning my study table. I hadn’t touched it much since 5 years. I do keep changing the setting once in a while but this time she made me clean all the drawers and the back side of the table, everything. While I was contributing to our P.M.’s “Safai Abhiyan” I found my old diary. I had hidden it so well that even I couldn’t find it for 5 years. I had kept it while I was in 10th or 11th standard. And I found a poem I had written then.
Life’s nothing; it starts from a crack, ends in a clutch.
All counts is how and what you did between the crack and the clutch.
How you lost it, How you won it;
How you loved it, How you hated it.
How you hated it, How it loved you back
And how you expected it.
It’s not about what you earned, but about what you gave what you had.
Not about crying over your insecurities or about how someone loved you.
It’s all about what you did about it.
It sucks, we all know that, but in the end we gotta deal with it. ‘Ourselves’
Live in every moment, act on your impulse,
Right at the moment, not giving a damn to what will follow..
But you did what you wanted to.
Just give it a thought, you are alive because god wants you to.
So make each day meaningful enough, that when he asks you,
you can say “see god, How lonely It is down there without me”
Yes, you can laugh at it. I am laughing too. Thank god I didn’t take up literature as my career. I know the poem makes very little sense. I promise I will not use words like ‘Damn’ in my poems next time, and yup I know the correct way to use do and did now. Still, I am not correcting my grammatical errors or spellings or broken rhymes because I like it broken, it reminds me how long I have come from there.
This was written by a girl who was bullied at school, envied her elder brother for doing so well in studies and was on a total rebel phase with her parents. But above all those confusions this girl had dreams. Huge dreams, I dreamt of it all; a perfect career, awesome love life, happy parents and a bank balance that could put Ambani’s to shame.
Well, I can’t relate to this 16 year old self of me anymore. My dreams have drastically changed by then. I don’t want to become a superstar, I don’t want a life where hundreds of kids aspire to become me. I just want to live my own life to the fullest. I am not aiming for big bank balance I only want to work. I want to create, be it through sculptures, photographs, blogs; I just want to express what is in me and create something that reflects me. I just want enough money to let me freely express myself. I do not want to bring about a huge societal change, all I want is for people younger or older to read my blogs and use it as a drive to achieve success. I just want to be a medium not the source nor the destination.
So is this a step backwards? M I diluting my dreams to make my life easier? Honestly! I don’t know. May be. But for now I know that my happiness lies in creating and everything else I leave for the life to surprise me with. My definition of success has now moved away from money to expression and it’s kind of liberating. The fear now is not to die without achieving anything but I fear death without being able to fully extract my potential.
I guess this is what growing up is all about. Having clearer visions. Making your own personalized path to success. At this point my mom tells me growing up is also about finishing what you started. I haven’t arranged my table back yet after I found the diary. Oops.!