Once, on this tiled floor, I fell out over silly things like getting a way for my new tractor-trolly which my father bought me the other day, after I was being obdurate. Gosh ! I loved that red tractor. I loved all the toys which I got at some point. I loved the crayons and the geometry-boxes. I had a great collection of disney stickers, I didn’t even use, and kept as it is. I didn’t know how to fly a kite, yet I used to buy ‘em every spring. I used to draw, paint things… anything from a fish to a whole landscape. Even though nobody appreciated my drawings and paintings. They thought it’s a waste of time and efforts. “Do you wanna be a painter? Really? Paint the houses, doors, sidewalk, the ramp over the sewage?” They used to chuckle at the astonishment on my face. It was not a profession in the era of Doctors, Engineers, Lawyers or… Doctors. Don’t worry, I didn’t type it twice actually. The doctoring was considered the best of all. Their mentality was confined to that. For those whose fate was chained to the counter of their father’s shop, no matter how small it was, were not allowed to dream big. Dreams like- going out for studies, living in hostels, and doing your favourite courses. They had to sit at their father’s shop sooner or later, no matter they drastically lacked interest in that. I was one of them.
I write, not much like I used to. But yeah, still I’m in touch with pen and paper. I remember, I could complete that poetic work of mine, consisting of something impossible to think of, at least by 12 years old kid. The words, the rhythms, the verses, the metaphors. They were outstanding. I could be one of the youngest modern literature writer. Even today, I can’t beat that kind of compositions. But the destiny of my writing vanished into thin air, when my siblings called it something worthless, just like they disdained my love for artistic works. That poetic work of mine, got terminated and remained unfinished since then.
What a fate, I was born with. I mean, fantastic sketching at the age of 9, terrific painting at the age of 10 and excellent writing skills at the age of 12. But all lacked one thing – Support from my near and dears. What do you expect from a kid who hasn’t even stepped into teenage? He can’t persist with something unless his elders support him and not disparage his work, no matter how inferior it sounds to them. At least, the kid is happy doing that work. You never know, tomorrow he may fetch more esteem and prosperity by what he loves to do. Sadly, my family didn’t understand it, until I passed my adolescence and taught them so.
As I mentioned before, my fate was handcuffed to the counter of my father’s shop, I never saw the dream of flying like an eagle and settled with what the average youngsters used to pursue. Although, a very distinct part of my inner-self was continuously begging me stop faking smiles and hunt for a real one. But I didn’t, until one day when my family itself asked me to go out and explore the world. They handed me with the application form of something, I never heard of before. Holding that form with few other classmates, I stepped out of my range of vision. They were happy… my family… neighbours… and somehow, they thought I would be happy too. Do you really think, you can force someone to dream the vision of yours, which is another form of disinterest and impassivity for him? You’ve got your answer, I guess.
Still, you can be either optimistic or pessimistic. And being an optimist, I tried to hunt that somehow repaired smile in those years of endless struggle. But my life frowned as it rewrote that fate of mine. Ended with a charming degree in my hands, which I didn’t even receive ceremonially, because I lacked excitement in that. And then, the real chapter of life begins – The empirical and monetary world. Expectations rose for my degree to go into the field and start printing currencies. And that is exactly what didn’t happen. Lost in the battles of facing the world, yet I stood still. Eyes shedded tears, yet my calmness overcame the restlessness. Every morning I woke up with my eyes wide open. Every day I went out with a winning mask and came back with a defeated face. I knew, the dreams I used to shelter, had long gone. So, whatever I had in my grasp, I had to live with. Nobody’s gonna wipe my tears out. Friends, Family, Girlfriend, they’re all means of a reminder that nothing’s gonna change now. I had to live with that. They kept on boosting me up for giving my next best shot.
They confused me with my contemporary situation with the one I was bound with. If they hadn’t made me dream their own vision, then I must have settled at my father’s shop and in that case, I wouldn’t even be writing this thing right now. And If I was allowed to work on my own dreams, then I could be someone far far beyond their imagination, because their imaginations are limited to their surroundings’ happenings. But neither happened.
Sometimes… most of the times… I do follow their instructions, at least for their satisfaction. They wished to see me like a common man earning adequate sum of money, surrounded by the known people of a locality, who commutes to his office everyday with a mind-map of how to please his boss, who is allowed to dream but not big enough, who can afford cars but not Aukaat ke bahar, who is married and blessed with beautiful kids for whom he brings gifts of about same amount every weekend, who spend his holidays at Shimla and not at Vienna, who is filled with that feeling of ‘commonness’ and who is known by a very very limited folks.
But who am I from inside? A happy, good-humoured person? NO !! I never wanted to be a Common man. I literally had a diary which I called “dream book”. I wished to have so many things. I wished to have everything. But nothing came in my hands, but blues. I wished to conquer the world.. But, couldn’t even conquer my own emotions. I wanted to spread smiles like they’re herpes. And look at me, my steps are followed by dolorous. The guy, who could be an inspiration, an ideal for of billions for millennium… settled to be a……. nothing !!!