Day 2 | Humble Beginnings

Introspections on the start of my topsy-turvey ride…

Dear Medium, I was born in India many years before the country had access to the internet. Computers, laptops, and cell phones were not even far-off fantasies. Forget about the luxuries; during the time of my upbringing, even the most basic requirements, like electricity, were out of reach. The sole informational medium that kept us in touch with the rest of the world was a battery-powered radio. We were among the poorest of the poor, in one of India’s most isolated regions.

Son of a Dreamer

“Richness is a state of bliss for the most courageous and intelligent beings. Money doesn’t make you rich or poor. Your mentality makes you believe either of the ones. Poverty is merely a state of the mind.”

That’s what my father would preach as a daily dose of motivation. He didn’t have much to contribute to our financial status or affluence. As a high school clerk in the 1980s, affluence was also a luxurious dream, that mostly remained out of our reach. He could only afford a set of beliefs and ideals. Just like with every other child, most of them would bounce over my head. I would always be subjected to heavily burrowed inspirational quotes; both at home and at school. Yes, I had the not-so-amazing glory of attending the same school where my father was employed. It had more drawbacks than perks, which I will undoubtedly discuss later.

I have always looked up to this man ever since I came to my senses. I am forever indebted for his kindness to bring me into this world. He still remains my most admirable teacher. The coach and mentor who saw his dreams through my eyes and would forever be the sleepless dreamer. Because I have witnessed his struggle to stand tall in a society rife with narcissists, I could be able to navigate ambiguity in a paradoxical world and come this far.

Sincerely Medium, my father is my greatest inspiration. No matter how low on the totem pole he was or how neglected he was by his friends and peers, it never mattered. His bold hope for change was what mattered the most to me. That his son would eventually grow up and seek redemption for all the humiliation he endured. He continued to beat the drum about how his son will one day bring him all the splendour of this world.

Here is to the dreamer, who brought me to the world!

See you tomorrow Medium…help me find some good ideas :). If time permits do visit my lanes.

©Ajit Mishra, 2022. All Rights Reserved.