Month: October 2016

Growing Up…

growing-up

We all have to go through that unpleasant funnel called growing up. It’s irreversible and inevitable.

It was great being young and unwitting. It was easier to spend all evenings watching Tom chase Jerry or Coyote the Roadrunner.

I remember when I was in primary school I’d come home tired, and sleep for an hour or two. And then I’d wake up to television, with tea and baked goodness on my side.

And growing up only made me realise that that’s how I gained weight in my mid region.

It was fun when I didn’t have to worry about anything but my homework. Whereas now I worry about everything from clocking into office on time, finishing my tasks without lags, and eating something healthy for each meal.

Until a few years ago, my life had seemed perfect. I had taken everything for granted — without caring for my health, making enough for a living, or saving up for a future. It now feels like a miracle that I once all that mattered to me was getting strong tea and stronger coffee.

And now, though, I can’t help but notice when people litter on the streets. It bothers me that 10-year-olds have their heads in a screen when they should have their heads in the clouds.

I’m now inclined to think of the big stuff. I’m wishing the ozone didn’t have holes, hoping humanity wouldn’t decimate itself, and wondering why aliens haven’t done that already.

As sad as it sounds to shed the innocence of a childhood gone by, I’ve grown to grow concerned about everything around me. It now matters to me that the world faces a crisis. It makes me wonder how it would affect me. It makes me a little aware, a little knowledgeable, and, at times, a little bitchy.

Until last year I didn’t know how a business works after launching a product. Since then, I’ve seen people coming up with new tactics, new products, and even new ways to fail.

I’ve been there and done that, but I’ve also been around others who did the same. I’m no longer that awkward kid with a dazed look. And that comes only when you’ve lived through ignorance and broken through the barriers of youth.

Youth is wonderful. Everyone should experience it. But growing up is a vaccination everyone should swallow to survive.

What’s the Point of Buying a House?

house.jpg

For people in my parents’ age, buying a house — or building one — is the ultimate goal. Life had a basic structure: education, job, house, EMI, marriage, EMI, kids, EMI, kids’ education, and (phew) retiring into the house they built all those EMIs ago.

By the time they move into their home, they’d have grown too old to climb the spiral stairs they’d so wanted. Sure, it would’ve looked sexy in movies or when Holmes darted up a stairwell with Watson at his heels, but the knee ache would be just too real.

It’s funny how my parents still think that that’s the way to go. Build a house, they say, and you’re set for life. It’s a good investment, a future-proof solution for when you’re much too old to work any longer. According to them, we need something we could fall back to when things get rough and soreness starts to show.

With the way my generation lives, with all the soda, the extra-cheesy burgers, and sitting on our asses, I doubt we’ll even live long enough to hit retirement. Besides, what’s the fun in spending all your youthful vigour saving for an unforeseeable future?

I’d rather spend my money and time on a road trip I’d enjoy now than agonise over interest for the next 5 years. I’d rather spend my money on a good bottle of wine than go over patterned tiles for the bathroom of a house I can’t afford.

And I’d choose Netflix today than fretting over a 27-inch television that would’ve gone off-style by the time I’m ready to kick back, debt-free.

Even though I explain all this to my parents as I’d explain the art of cereal-eating to a toddler, they still fall back to, “Buying a house will free up your future.” Our society has hammered the idea into their skulls for far too long.

And as I look into the eyes that plead me to save more and buy a house, I end up smiling, “Sure, mom.”

In my heart, though, I know buying a house is the last thing I’d do.

I’ve been living in my current rented house for almost a year and I’m itching to move already. If I’d have to spend hoards on a single house and live in it forever, that’d be punishment and not freedom.

What’s the Point of Photography?

photography point.jpg

I’ve spent restless nights for the sun to come up so I could click a picture.

I’ve zoomed in far more than I should, just to get a clear shot of a waning moon as darkness engulfed it.

I’ve pointed my camera at many places, trying to land a perfect angle. I should have just gaped open-mouthed, instead.

Photography is addictive. I’ve got a great phone that takes stunning images, with a precise focus. Plus, it’s so fancy I need to flaunt it. And I also have a craving to capture scenic, yet uncommon, sights of everyday life.

That’s what makes me flip out my phone every time I’m at a restaurant. Or stop short in the street to click a picture of a witty billboard. It’s what makes me lean over pointy plants and hover over a blooming flower.

It felt therapeutic at first to scroll through photos and pretend I had more memories than I could remember. But then, I didn’t remember those moments because I never paid attention.

And as I went to the terrace this morning, I saw the sun pushing its way through dense clouds, illuminating the sky with orange rays. As the clouds lined gold, a balloon of joy erupted within me. And in an instant, I wished I had my phone in hand.

Without thinking, I wanted to freeze the moment rather than enjoy it. I wasn’t in the present but was thinking about taking it to the future.

It was sad. Nature had given me a glorious sight, and there I was my eyes clouded behind the veil of a camera lens. What’s the point of looking at something and not seeing it?

In truth, photography means nothing to me. I’m no professional, and I don’t intend to be.

I don’t have a fancy camera or the knowledge of perfecting lighting, angles, or aperture.
I shouldn’t mind sacrificing a few photos if it meant I could eat a meal while it’s still warm. It’s fine to stare at the moon for five minutes without panicking over an unfocused photo. And ok to look at the sky, calling out, “Bring me that horizon.”

Sure, I should still get a good photo or two of momos — because they’re too good to resist. But for me, photography is a hobby, and it shouldn’t get in the way of living my life.

Honesty Is the Best Policy

honesty

From primary school to middle and even in high school, we’ve vouched for honesty countless times. It’s embedded in our heads even without our consent.

But we also know they’re just empty words.How honest could we sound about being honest when we know so well that it would squash us? It’s how life is. Nowadays, no one can be honest and have a peaceful life at the same time.

How honest could we sound about being honest when we know so well that it would squash us? It’s how life is. Nowadays, no one can be honest and have a peaceful life at the same time.

Because once you realise the truth leads to misery, you wouldn’t want to take that route.

It starts small, like students telling their parents they finished homework, when they hadn’t. It’s so common that it’s not even breaking the being honest rule. Besides, telling the truth is too much trouble to deal with.

Likewise, a self-respecting adult wouldn’t walk up to a cop and declare they’ve hidden a stash in their car. You can’t do that and expect the law to let you go — just because you were honest.

Or perhaps this: “Honey, you look hideous. But I love you.” That’s a good punch line. And in the current state of our society, the guy may be charged with body shaming and sexism as well.

Being truthful is painful. And as humans, we try to avoid it. So much so that we don’t even feel guilty of being dishonest anymore. Why bother? It’s not as if there’s a SWAT team outside a thirteen-year old’s door sniffing for a whiff of beer.

It’s easier to hide the wrong stuff.

And we’ve landed an intolerable society because we chose the easy way rather than the right way.

For far too long, we’ve been telling children to be honest, without teaching them how. From the small things like forgetting to get the report card signed, to bigger things like forgetting to pay the taxes, it’s all about honesty — or the lack of it.

We’ve said it too many times. As a result, we nullified the meaning of it. Like when Mark Antony called Brutus an honourable man. By the end of that speech, no one thought Brutus honourable.

It’s no different with honesty. What was once a moral became a proverb, and is now a cliché. And we avoid clichés like the plague.

The government doesn’t go through every individual’s tax payments. The police don’t scour every college dorm for narcotics. And there’s no FBI breaking down doors looking for illegal weapon holders.

We shouldn’t enforce honesty but introduce it early.

We don’t need teachers reading out to students from a book that says, “Honesty is the best policy”. What we need, instead, is for them to explain the truth and the reality of facing consequences.

Let’s Talk Money

Some say money is irrelevant, and there are things more important in life. Like human relationships, for instance. Or trust or humility.

Which is all fine, but how often do we find ourselves starving and rummaging amidst pennies, while staring through the window of Subway or Starbucks?

At that moment, nothing matters more than a few currency notes. Never would we appreciate paper more than we would then. It’s just paper, but it’s also the world. No one’s got time for humility when they’ve got a rumbling tummy.

It’s not as if Subway would handover a sandwich to an under-nourished kid living on the streets. Or as if Santa would bring us lifetime supply of basic necessities for Christmas if we’re good this year.

Life’s not school where the teacher would give you a gold star for attending class every day. Nor does life give you a tree of golden leaves you could pick any time you want some.

Life is harsh. While for some it’s painful to live without familiar faces around them, for some others living is painful in itself. No single mother who scrubs pans to feed two sons and a daughter would declare money is irrelevant. When you’ve been alone, penniless, and helpless for far too long, family and human relationships mean less than rain water puddles.

Life is ruthless. Every 20 something graduating with a degree he didn’t want in the first place, buckles under the weight of an education loan that’d tie him to a desk job for the next ten years.

Life is mischievous. It gives you countless options and yet stumps you with a catch. You could be a doctor, a teacher, an artist, even. But before you become anyone, you need to turn out your pockets to our great education system. And then frees you up to do that creative writing course you yearned for.

Catch, though: The Humanities are dead. You go down that path, and you’re future’s lost for ever. The Dead Poets Society makes it worse.

No one struggling to keep their head above water would say money is secondary. Sure, we all know the importance of being a good citizen, and that our values matter more than our lives. But when it comes to reality, nothing is louder than the voice of money.

Besides, if you notice, almost all those who care naught for money have too much of it already. We hear only their voices. Because when you’ve never struggled to make ends meet, when you’ve grown up oblivious of a Pay Day loan, money isn’t the most important thing in life.