Too much, Too early

What do you want to be when you grow up?

My answers have ranged from “singer “ to “traffic police”; to “lawyer” to “artist”… to “doctor”. In my tenth standard they asked me to pick a stream for my plus two. Indecisive as ever, I kept oscillating until someone argued non-forcibly for science. His logic was simple- “you can take up arts even if you quit it right now but you can’t take up science once you quit, later”. I cannot and do not vouch for the applicability of this statement but imagine my relief. Yay! Put off the decision until later! Well, at least, some of it.

By then I had vaguely answered “doctor” to the first question, more than once. Sadly, people took my answers pretty seriously. So, they told me that the focus and determination required to get an MBBS seat is, well… something else. Focus?! Oh no.

But hey! I don’t shy away from challenges. I frantically sandpapered myself. All my hobbies became distractions. I didn’t create a fuss (nothing big, in any case) because I wasn’t sure what my argument would be.

I want to fool around? I want to be jack of a few more trades before I decide to be a master of few?

I want to be jack of a few more trades before I decide to be a master of few.

That sums it up. I saw some 10 molds, selected the one that seemed most similar to me in shape and started to chisel and hammer away at myself. I am definitely not alone in this. Our schooling systems are such that we barely get to try things out. Mediocrity is, as in the rest of the world, scoffed at. So, the chances of doing something you’re not already decent at are bleak.

Can I play table tennis? Can I be a ventriloquist? (I wish!) Can I sing? Dance? Contort? Belly-dance? I can only guess at a few, sadly- That too, despite, not because of, my schooling. I had molded my hobbies too as I did my career based decisions (not too many, I know. I don’t mean to sound pretentious, promise.) I only considered the things I was already good at. For 3 years, I tried nothing new. (Most people my age didn’t, I believe.)

Anyway, so I ended up getting an MBBS seat somehow. Finally, college started. And guess what? I still don’t fit into the molds. I keep chipping away bits yet they jut out. Then there are new casts and I want to re-attach some old bits of myself; Parts, which I have discarded with a lot of effort. More often than not, I have to sculpt it afresh.

I hate this- this constant need to fit into a mold. With each passing moment, the mold gets more and more specific. More likely than not, I am going to end up being a Doctor. That does not sound very disagreeable per se. However, the idea of being categorized as something is appalling. The idea of not being able to even consider so many things as a real option is scary.

Perhaps, I sound like a temporary misfit. I just haven’t found my “calling” yet. What if… I don’t want to find anything? Just keep doing things that feel like the thing to do.

“It’s not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.” Damn right, Bruce. Wait, who am I… and…

…define?

*sigh*