Wednesday, November 10, 2010
It's time you got pregnant.
November Rain...
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Different?
Some years ago, when I was still a teenager, someone I much respected gave me an interesting piece of information. ‘The problem with teenagers of all generations’, he said, ‘is that they are all making a constant effort to be different. To be a rebel, not quite knowing what the cause it. Which is why they falter so easily; and it takes immense strength of character to say no to your peers and stick to your beliefs.’
His words stayed on with me all through those years. I took immense pride in the fact that I had managed to stay away from the cancer stick. I never used the f word in school, even as my friends seasoned their sentences generously with it. My most frequently used cuss word then was as innocent as “spineless jellyfish”!
Then I had these strong views, or so I thought, about various other things - for example tattoos. Now since they were ‘cool’ and therefore wannabe (ha ha) I was averse to the idea of inking myself. My favourite line those days used to be, “Tattoos are a no-no. They are too permanent for me.” (I am so sure I must have read it somewhere, but I loved to own it.) So while I was ensuring in every way that I didn’t turn out to be a difficult teenager, I didn’t quite realise that I was behaving exactly like any average teen. Making an effort to be different.
The realisation struck when I was amongst wannabes of a different kind. Pseudo intellectuals.
I saw myself in them to a large extent, and suddenly my once individualistic lines were not so unique anymore. That’s when I think I loosened up. And trust me, it’s fabulous to feel that free. From you own restrictions, your own barriers. Because that’s when you begin to accept and learn the golden rule, “to each his own.”
By the way, I love the idea of tattoos now. May get one soon. And not so proudly, I also confess that my cuss words have graduated ;)
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Moolah Rogue!
My father is a businessman, and may I say that he earns enough to give us a little more than a comfortable lifestyle. Yet, all through my growing up years he made me believe that there is nothing fabulous or even remotely good about having money. He kept telling me that professions that are more noble, a teacher, a doctor, an artist or a writer, you earn respect. And that earning is more valuable than any amount of money. So, all through my childhood I thought that my father had the worst job in the world. Only money. What was it any good?!
Then I grew up, went to college, made friends - “Your father is a businessman. Wow!” (I found nothing ‘wow’ about it, because I never got any extra money to splurge. I want through the usual students’ routine of saving up through the month, sometimes cutting down on my outings to buy things I really fancied.) I also remember an atrocious, one-time acquaintance recount her break-up story to me. “Oh come on, it was never meant to be”, she said, “He works in a bank and my father is a surgeon!!” I was suddenly being exposed to a whole new way of thinking; something I was completely unfamiliar with. Had my father fooled me all this while? Is money the only important thing in life? Could it also buy enviable kilograms of respect?
Today as I keep my increment letter in front of me and read it over and over again, I really want to believe that my father was right. Money is not everything after all! It’s the respect you earn from a noble profession that matters. Like that of a teacher, a doctor, an artist or a WRITER!!