Why
is choosing a road less traveled poetic in theory but baleful in reality? Why do
I have to straighten up my upper lip every time I’m out alone? Why is going to
the gym my only strength when I’m mentally strong too? Why isn’t that enough? Why
do boys always stare at you? What is my body and why does it even exist as
another entity altogether? What are my legs if they’re not walking away from
threat? Constant vigilance, Professor Mad-Eye Moody would say.
These
are the questions that young adult women like me have today; among many others.
The one most important answer to these questions is that my life lacks a
million characters of a good fiction book, and so it is not.
It
is so easy to lose all temptation to acquire knowledge, to settle for vapid frivolities,
to bury the hatchet of curiosity; and live forever, in the transient paradise
of defiance. Chill, relax, they say. Look up at the sky, why is it serene to
look at the color blue but then it is associated with depression and sadness? What
is the fracture point in the stress-strain graph of a human mind? When did you
last stop believing in the existence of a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow? What
makes you, you? What makes your heart flutter, and your chest swollen with
pride?
We
had a plethora of questions while growing up; we looked up to adults for the
know-it-all giants they were to us. Who is god and where do we go when we die?
Why is learning tables more important than the diorama of a kitchen set? Why
are some things, and some people, placed at a higher value than the rest? Why
do I have to be of that age, to do that? Who gave love a bad name? Why do we fight
wars?
I
wonder what would be the answer to these questions, if they were asked by a
kid. But then again, kids are very smart these days, most of them are. Innocence
is a rare gift; it shouldn’t be exploited with half-assed truths. But as we
grow up, we glean information. We open several tabs. We clear our histories. We
become aware. We satisfy our curiosities and begin to consolidate answers for
ourselves.
Limitless,
you do NOT have to be of that age, to learn that; though I still think that only
prodigies can do that, maybe because of the embedded fear of failure in my
mind. But I like to believe the former, and do most of the things based on
words sewn together to form my life mantra – I can be whoever I want to be.
Equity,
being a jargon in the world of finance is also the part and parcel of life
itself. Equity is imperative. Hierarchy is status; order which is relevant, though
not permanent. Atheism, feminism, nationalism, patriarchy, all resonated within
me in a similar fashion. At times the answers I was being given seemed incongruent
with the reality, so much so that I was being propelled by a great desire to
just let go of everything. Every little doubt was relinquished for peacefulness.
Several tabs were all closed, at once. I felt it to be important that I do not
get pummeled for my interest in history, so I hid it. And escaped the chaos it
was so famous for brewing. So I did bury the hatchet, did I go back to it? Who knows?
“Dad!
Sparkling! Wires!” I screamed at the glow of electricity in the air.
“It’s
Sparking, kiddo. Not Sparkling.” He laughed
I
remember being upset for being wrong. I was so bad at English; I still am just
ok at it. I was disparaged for my English. So I made words my best crony. I
asked questions. These questions were nothing, but meaning of the words I found
in the texts that I read. And that meaning has been important for me; it has
been the driving force for my not so fictitious life.
*Winks*
What
is your most important question?
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