A Rather Dull Post

I remember having a decent childhood; school, sports, music, vacations, doordarshan, summer hair-cuts, numerous family outings &c. Although it was quite an active childhood but I was always lethargic at heart. And no matter how good or bad it sounds but whenever someone says, “oh, childhood is the best phase of one’s life”, it has only made me sick and weak, at the sheer absurdity of that generality. I wonder what do the children have to say regarding childhood? They would obviously say ‘no’ considering the fact that they’ve to sit for exams every year, and therefore would prefer growing up straight into adults rather than be a child and lose brains over education. But exams are only the puerile basis of the argument. When you remove all educational pressures from a child and let it live on like there is no other world apart from the world of the playing field, no child would have qualms staying a child all life. But then, the child knows of no other phases of the human life, so how valid would be a child saying that childhood is the best! That ‘childhood is the best’ is obviously a grown-up’s view of the human life, and certainly a particular kind of grown-up who had a relatively happy, smooth, cosy, and trouble-free childhood, in short one belonging to the Haves! Oh, how much does the human life vary from the haves and the have-nots… so much for the mighty double standards of these generalities! If only people could recognize that nothing’s absolute in this world, everything’s so bloody relative…

Ok I shall clap an extinguisher on all that high sounding stuff especially when I hardly possess the complexion to write on matters of philosophical origins, so let’s politely shift to something lighter, ‘I, Me, Myself’. But I realize that even that may not interest you to the hilt, so you are free to pursue your business elsewhere and the rest… well, could I be any happier!

As a child I never did more than I was told to do, and be it for good or worse it still remains one of my character traits. I hated school but I read my books well. I do not harbor a sense of gratitude or indebtedness for my school, for the simple reason that I hardly learnt anything there apart from the knowledge of alphabets and numbers, and friends are never the reason to say ‘I love school days’ no matter how beautiful and good that sounds to be. Teachers were dull and uninspiring and overtly prejudiced but smart enough to smother your confidence and drive you into well nigh depressive disorders. I guess these were the culprits who planted that seed of mania in me which burst into life three years after school.

But my life in most ways began after school, after tenth to be precise. It wasn’t smooth and gliding, even horrid at times, but it was the real one—there was grit in it. It did breed character. Eleventh and twelfth gave me new perspectives, brought me in contact with new friends, and people who would eventually be responsible for the kind of person I am today. If my school made me hate teachers and their profession then it was college which made me their loyal puppy slaves forever. Today, I cannot imagine myself being anything other than a student and willingly barter all my life for an hour or two spent in the company of my professors. I think I can write a book on them and the mere recollection of their faces and frames makes me giddy with enthusiasm. Ah! All that sweet food of academic life! Boy, I don’t see myself in any field other than academics… what a thrill it is to be a student!

Today when people ask me, “what do you want to do in life or how are you going to face the world with this kind of an attitude”, I wonder what makes those miserable people ask me those questions. Is it their lives which are miserable or is it mine! The fact is I give a damn to what they think about me, I’m sick and tired of explaining. I’m happy and contended in my own skin and I’ve managed to break the shackles of the great expectations and I’m free at least in my mind…

Now Playing:: Lakho hain nigah mein....................Rafi