To my Skylark ….

“We look before and after, and pine for what is not” : My favourite line from the English literature. Its meaning to me has always been clear. But lately, it has taken over a new one, as if trying to match the variation in the hues that made up my life so far.

What I want to write today has nothing to do with a generally felt emotion or a commonly fought battle. It has nothing to do with the “everydayness” of everybody’s life but it has everything to do with the basis of mine.

As kids, in school, we were taught that parents are next to god. They can do no wrong and have only our best interest in mind. We were also told that loving your siblings and respecting your parents could book a first class ticket to heaven. It wasn’t a difficult thing to accept or believe way back then. The times were simpler, the troubles that surrounded us were minuscule, the fights were (believe it or not) sweet. What we were blind to, was the fact, that everything around us was designed to fool us into doing what was “right”.

The only time that I remember not being conned into doing the “right” thing was kindergarten. The days back then were all about play-dough and sand castles, colurful classrooms and legos.

But as soon as I was hit by the catastrophe of grade school, everything changed for good. The dough and sand, they were replaced with pencils and notebooks. It was not just important to participate anymore, it was important to compete, and very important to win. Every mark in the exam was scrutinised, the loss of one or even half of it, was criticised. As the years progressed, so did the competition, the competition to excel among your peers in everything you do. We, as kids, did not choose to treat our friends as enemies, we did not choose to fight for marks in the exam papers. All we did was follow the instructions handed down to us by our “gods”. We continued with this assembly line production of every step our lives, from school to college. Like a well oiled machine we functioned, fulfilling all of society’s demands.

It reached a point where I could not see any difference between what I wanted from my life and what they wanted my life to shape into. I could not diffrentiate between what I wanted to choose and the choice I made. All that I knew was that I was a good daughter, a good student and that was all that mattered. It was only after two years of working in this profession “chosen” by me, after living the “independent” life, that I realised how naive I had been. It was as if someone smashed the dark,opaque glass wall in front of my eyes and removed the remaining pieces one by one.

It all started when I was slowly made aware that I was a failure in my profession.This made me understand that I was not meant to sit in front of a computer and code all day long. A new found interest in theatre and writing, made me come to terms with the fact that I was, after all, an “artsy” person. Breaking this news to my family, did not turn out to be tough. They understood and felt the pain I was in. But all said and done, I am sure of one thing. If I decide to quit my well-paying job and go for a full time career in something related to the arts, I would be asked a thousand questions. I would be reprimanded for ruining my career , for ruining my life. What I am also sure of is that If I disclose my plans of marrying by my choice, these very same people would not think twice before asking me to quit my job and come home, lest “society” finds out we live in the same city before marriage. Where do the concepts of successful career and independence and a good pay-cheque go in this case ?

From school to college to career to life. Every step we take is defined and pre-determined by “society” or so we are told. Who is this “society”, what constitutes it? Is it not just a collection of people like me, people like you? Why then would you or me make rules that would end up hurting another one of our kind? Why is it that people forget that we get but one life. We get one chance, only one, to do what we can with these limited breaths allotted to us. What is the point, then, of being controlled by an unknown entity and be bothered about what it would think? I am not saying that there is no need of a society or structure for the human race. I do believe that we need some form of organization to prevent the inherent barbarism in each one of us to take shape into reality. But why can we not let this form of organization be just that ? Why do we have to consider it to be the sole authority on how a man should execute every step of his life ? Is this life not his own for him to make mistakes, to take chances, to live as he pleases?

Finally, I am forced to ask  – was Percy B. Shelley constricted by similar thoughts when he wrote :

” We look before and after,

And pine for what is not :

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.”