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.

It’s That Day Again

Last day of the month. And we all know what that means.

A month-long they spend toiling. Shuffling into the office each morning, hatred oozing from a not-so-cheery hello and the compulsion to work.

Every dying ember of a Friday afternoon would feel like the beginning of a carnival. And Sunday evenings, a dousing of spirits.

They bear it all because there comes a day — the last day of the month — when they would make up for all they’ve lost. A day to give money away to an unknown face behind computer screens and cash counters. A face, though smiles, relies on secret one-time passwords to check they aren’t cheats.

All that to acquire material stuff.

“A hat with a lion on it! I so need it to show off to my friends.”

“That grey converse looks good. I could alternate it with my blue and black ones.”

“Wow, I have a shirt that’d go so well with that scarf.”

“It’s almost December, shouldn’t I get a new pair of gloves? My old ones are…old.”

“He got a phone and I need to get at least a new cover for mine.”

For the next two days, shopping malls and online sites will flood with young people. They’d spend hard-earned remuneration on flip flops designed like Mickey Mouse.

red-carpet

And as they surf stall after stall, retailers stalk them with delightful deals. Buy one and get something free. Ah, yes! I’ll take a pair of designer shoes, please. And a cake of soap to go with that. It’s good it’s free. I need that soap because I can’t get it elsewhere.

And since they bought something and got something free with that, they get another offer: Shop for more than 5 percent of your income and get 2 percent off!

Well, why the hell not?

At the end of the day, spending all that money makes them feel so much secure and good about themselves. If that’s what it takes to take on Monday at the work, then so be it.

The Career Conundrum — An Open Letter to a High-Scorer

arts

Hey there!

I heard you got your SSLC (Secondary School Leaving Certificate) results sometime last week.

Looks like you’ve done pretty well, huh?

The whole of Tamil Nadu rejoiced that over 40 students had scored 499/500. What fierce competition! And for something as trivial as memorizing a certainly erroneous textbook.

Surprised? Didn’t you realize how silly your syllabi were? How can you claim printing blunders as petty?

Plus, the top people in the education department worry about the falling standards. At this rate, they say, top-scorers wouldn’t stand a chance in a nation-wide evaluation.

Some even suggested new syllabi for better education.

No worries though. This result is still a big deal.

Your parents know it. But it seems you don’t. And that’s why I decided to knock some sense into your over-creative head.

How come you haven’t realized it yet? This result determines your future! The more you score, the greater your chances are for groups 1 or 2 — which is eventually Engineering. Or Medicine  —  if you’re that ambitious.

But I hear you have something else in mind. Trust me, you don’t want to hear about the third group.

Only those who are too stupid and lazy to study choose the Arts. Oh, yes.

As Indian, nothing is more prestigious than becoming an Engineer or Doctor. They are the highest-paying jobs and will earn you a lump dowry in the marriage market. Why would you want to give up on that?

There’s a saying, “Indians become an Engineer first and then decide what they want to become in life.” Like most people, you probably think it’s just another of those Facebook fads, but it sure as hell is not.

True, most Engineering graduates spend four years discerning the mechanics of things they care naught for.

Then there’s the MBA infatuation.

After wasting years and parents’ money, they spend a couple more years suited-up in college. They hope it’ll be their cherry, but none of them notices the ice-cream melting.

Because it’s all part of the social convention. The more you follow the common folk, the less they’ll look down on you.

Besides, melting ice-cream’s pretty amazing, don’t you think?

Choose the Arts, and people would judge you sooner than your high-school teacher. Arts graduates spend the next five to all their years explaining to an unbelieving mob why they don’t like Engineering.

And how can you not like Engineering? It’s not like you have a choice  —  it’s like primary education.

Denying a degree in engineering is declining a basic need. After all, in today’s India, engineering is survival instinct.

Choose the Arts, and you’ll be lower than everyone else who were wise enough to avoid it.

Choose the Arts, and you’ll drabble in unemployment and poverty for the rest of your life.

Choose the Arts if your Dad’s a money machine. Otherwise, be wise.

Unless you can become the next Shakespeare or Michael Jackson  — just  don’t do the Arts. Only a fool picks the Arts over Engineering.

Trust me though; no one else will say this to your face. Instead, they’ll tell you it’s awesome to follow your dreams  — because no one else dares.

There’s a reason no one else dares.

Your classmates  —  the would-be engineers who hope to land an unrelated career  —  would tell you how pitiful their life is. At least your family considered your interests.

Whereas your family would counsel you on how foolish it is to choose the Arts. How it’s a dying breed, how doing Engineering before anything is a backup if you ever flunk your dream  —  because hey, shit happens.

If you come out of it, and still wish to do Arts, then perhaps I underestimated you. Perhaps you do have a strong will.

No matter. The rest of society will succeed where your family didn’t. A month or two in the real world and you’ll probably run off to an Engineering college, realizing  — but not accepting  — ‘Mom knows best.’

There aren’t many people who endure all that negativity and still stand their ground.

Of those few, just a handful succeed. Most of the Arts folk are just depressed, alone and bitter. And definitely cynical.

Because that’s what society does to you. They’d tell you to be yourself  — but if you do, they’ll crush you.

You could be unknown, you could be broke  — but remember one thing. No one knows Banksy, the person.

And real Artists don’t care.