Wednesday, July 9, 2008

A Sign of Being a Grown-Up

[Concern & hence, the 'Warning'-Please do not attempt to read this piece of writing without being acquainted with my style (as in the earlier posts), 'coz this is a lot worse than the previous stuff wrt the ramble, the vagueness of subject and the fragmentariness of thought and writing. This is actually a concern for my own impression on you-reader (I don't want it spoiled and yeah, believe me, this writing can spoil it much worse than the warning accompanying it) and your expected state of mind after reading this, if read without any sort of acquaintance with my writing. But, yes, go on, if you yourself can identify with the craziness of it all, starting with the warning. This is an option, that's for you to consider and a decision that's for you to take.Thank You.]


Life is complex. I knew that. And, I guess, I’ve always had his piece of information lurking in the back of my mind since the moment I was born. After all, the very process of being born is complex. And, tough too. It always has been at the back of my mind but I realized it in the conscious not long ago. Rather, I should say the process has been gradual. All the failures before the successes (albeit the fact that the number of failures have exceeded the number of successes, and not necessarily in that order when you consider the case(s) of the rise and the fall- of the stock market, the obvious…) have all contributed in the realization process. Actually, it’s not been that complex. No, it’s not life I’m talking about here, but the process of realization that life is complex. Or that’s how it’s been for me. More or less, everyone learns this later or sooner.
When a person is a child, that child is given no options, no choices. His or her decisions are taken by elders with the child simply having to do what he’s being told to. Sounds strange? Then you must have been born just before the dawn of the new millennium (of course, after the dawn it’s the same, but then you must have stumbled upon this piece of writing, ‘coz you must not be over eight years old. Kid, keep out. Save it for life later), right into the lap of commercialization or you must have been rich with liberal (more like spoiling, to be frank) elders in your life. So, when you’re a child, you’ve got no decisions to make- just do what you’ve been told to. Simple. Life’s simple. But, at that time, you want to have those choices-the things which will complicate life further for you, and take your own decisions and live those choices. But, you don’t get to take those choices as your elders save you from taking those choices. How they save you from the miseries. And, instead of thanking them, you curse them for the choices that they take for you. It’s been the same for me, same for every(normal)one I know. I craved those choices, people crave for those choices, those options. One waits for the life when that person can make and enjoy his/her options.
Life’s a bloody joke.
You start cribbing about life, cribbing about the non-existence of choices and decisions. But, life’s a cruel joke, played at you. Slowly and slowly, you are given the opportunities to make those choices, those decisions that you’ve cribbed for in your life. Very subtle, they still don’t punch you in the face. You are asked to choose your friends, your new cereal, your new dress, shoes, the colour of your own room…the list goes on and on. And, you still can’t figure why the fun’s going out of your life, where’s the contented sleep going to. Of course, you can’t blame it on your choices, or rather the thing about making choices. How can you? Either you’re busy wondering why you still aren’t making choices, why you still aren’t being considered a grown-up (life’s subtle, you see) or you’re busy blaming something else. Of course these decisions are not hurting you, how can they? They’re the essence of life, of being a grown-up. On the contrary, you try to feel happy about this new found-freedom to mask the unhappiness that they bring. So, you’re living in denial or probably more gravely in ignorance and non-realisation ( probably the former state is graver but anyway, who cares, they’re both devils), until…
Ting-tong. The bell of your life rings. You open it. Rather than entering your garden (which has already been done), Mr.Decision is standing at your door, waiting to enter your house. BOOM!!! There goes the brothers of ignorance and denial out of the door, running, helter-skelter. You start feeling the heat, that which finally burns you to death if you don’t handle it with care. So, out of the blue (that’s due to denial or ignorance), comes the time to make the decisions which determine the course of your life. You make decisions, you survive. You don’t make decisions, you die. The buck doesn’t stop at the first decision. It comes with a rider-one decision that you take opens other many decisions and it continues.
I’m myself at a point of time when I’ve gotta take vital decisions. And, I hate it. Because, I can’t have it all. To have one good, I’ve gotta throw out another good. And, when you start hating it, and denial and ignorance don’t offer much comfort, you start writing like me.
MORAL: Whenever you start writing trash (and even listen to a lot of thrash- I do it), dude(!), you gotta make a choice and (though) you’re hating it.(,) You’ve grown up.

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