In a world of horses, he dared to be a bird
Once upon a time, there was a boy. One day one of his relatives visited his house. During dinner, he asked that boy a very common question asked by any Indian relative, “Beta 12th ke baad kya?” And before the blink of an eye, his father replied- “Engineering” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And with that answer, ever so unknowingly, the wings of a newly born bird, which was yet to know what flying felt like, was chopped off…..
But the saddest thing- It was not a hunter, not an outsider who did this to him. It was his own people.
As his father talked about all the top Engineering institutions of the country, the boy was still thinking about the tons of poems he wrote, and left somewhere far away from the clutches of any harm….Poems he had written while looking at the far off formidable mountains, countless sketches he had made of flying kites…This is what he loved doing best-sitting alone on the roof. Staring. Thinking. Imagining. Creating his own.
Alas, to his parents, these meant nothing. How could they understand the thoughts of a boy who had spent hundreds of sleepless nights perched up on the edges of the roof watching the brightest of the stars smiling at him from the eastern sky.
Everyone loves a movie actor but no one wants their child to be one. Everyone enjoys stories of Shakespeare but No one want their child to be a writer. Everyone gets fascinated by the paintings of M. F. Hussain but no one want their child to be a painter.
Often, his parents used to tell him, “Ever since you were young, we wanted you to be an engineer. But here you are, simply wasting your time”. They tell him about their hopes, their dreams. But what about his life? What about the fact that he finds his happiness among the canvass and brushes? What about the thoughts he had looking at the vast endless sky and how he could fill it with colors?
The next morning the result of the JEE advance came out and shortly after, the headlines read- ‘SUICIDE OF SO MANY IIT ASPIRANTS’.
I went to see him.
Not so much his results, as to check on the fact that he had not contributed to the mortality count.
“We want to live.
We want to fly
And we want to be free”
But only a handful of numbers are actually able to do that.
While others were busy dying because they were crushed by peer pressure and couldn’t follow their dreams he chose to live. When everyone was busy dreaming, he was burning the oil in his lamp of hope, to turn his dream into reality.
He chose to differ. To go against all odds. He aspired to turn his passion into his profession.
And when you love the things you do, your workplace becomes your home and and your table becomes your bed.
In the world’s eyes he was a creative person but In front of his parents he was a rebel. An outcast. A disgrace. Because he chose his own life, he made his own path, played by his own rules.
He preferred happiness over money- happiness over compromise. And above all he didn’t let his parents to force him into the rat race.
In a world of horses he dared to be a bird.
Edit by: Rwitika Ghosh
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