The Mind Wanders
The mind wanders, a sea of thoughts, each wave crashing on the shore, and giving rise to a new one. When I was a kid, I used to wish to grow up soon; adults, I thought had the coolest life — no one could tell them what to do, plus, they didn’t have to write exams. Only if I had known how wrong I was.
Having experienced adulthood for quite sometime now, I wish, that I would have wished differently, not only because I lost quite a bit of hair while growing up, but because, I thought wrongly — that adults were ‘free’. Tis’ only children who’re truly free, free of concerns (apart from the exams of-course, and that too has taken a turn for a worse these days, what with all the IIT JEE/PMT coaching centres sprouting like weed, through out the country), and free of the daily maladies of an adult life.
Being an adult has its perks though, I can buy stuff I like, and I don’t have to ask for money from my parents; but, somehow, I feel that, it used to be a lot better when my parents used to gift me things that I used to pester them for. I don’t even remotely value things that I buy for myself, not even the car that I recently bought, as much as the first cycle that my father bought for me when I got admitted to Bishop Conrad (a convent school in Bareilly, with no equals, at that time). The appreciation that I received from my teachers in school and college, I cherish more than any awards given to me while doing my job, justifiably so, as ultimately they are the ones whom I credit for having made me capable of making a living.
Small things, I feel, are the ones that truly make us happy, like the 15 Rs. Mewaad Prem ice-cream I had today with an old school friend, which by the way tasted much better than the 500 Rs. Hagen-Dazs ice-cream I once made the mistake of having in Delhi. I am privileged that I can afford the small joys of life, but the sweetness of those joys is somewhat lessened by what I see around myself. Driving to office everyday in my air conditioned car, there are children, at almost all traffic signals, begging for money, hungry, and deprived of love. Some of them have been so affected by their condition, that they hit my car’s windows if I offer them a toffee instead of some loose rupee coins. I know it’s not their fault, and it certainly isn’t mine.
May be our system is flawed, or may be we as a society, are flawed. There has to be certainly something seriously wrong with us, who are ok with buying a 500 Rs. pop corn tub at cinema halls, and also, sadly, ok with having fellow humans living a life lacking of dignity and love, at traffic signals through which we daily sail by.
Words, I know, these are just words, possibly empty and not of any ultimate consequence in alleviating the conditions of the underprivileged lot. I am just an ordinary engineer, programming my way to a living — but the power of social platforms on which I am sharing this note makes me believe, for a tiny second that my words might have some power and might reach the ears of those who have the power to re-build the broken world, in which we live — us, the society.
The mind wanders, forgive me, if I wasted your time with my haphazard thoughts; do let me know yours too, I’d be happy to read them, as you were so graciously kind to read mine.