30
years of my life, gone. I achieved nothing - which to be honest,
doesn't come as a surprise. Only about six years back, thoughts of
suicide seemed interesting. I carried on, finding suicide too as
meaningless. That I can now think of achievements again may be the
only achievement that I count of.
I did make some money too in the way. It is probably enough to settle in Himalayas for the rest of my life – which would've been a dream in my 20s – to escape the immense pressure of making good money. There was no pressure from my parents, who still live a content middle-class life. My protected and blissful childhood didn't drum it in me to get ahead and move upwards. The escape to Himalayas seemed achievable and desirable.
But
it was the sudden appearance of money-power in post-globalization
India that pushed me into the whirwind of money-making. I consciously
played along with those who find money to be the ultimate solution to
all problems. Having spent a middle-class childhood
surrounded by more books than toys and gadgets, I knew that money
didn't buy happiness – but in the times when consumerism had dawned
on Inidia, I suddenly found lack of money to have been the root of
all my problems.
With
the sort of upbringing I had, I was meant to find a stable job, get
married and follow this quintessential tradition of my forefathers.
But now I was suddenly supposed to ride a honda, buy designer clothes
every season, impress a hot woman of the same status and interests,
listen to cool music and eat at expensive restaurants. I was short of
money.
The safety-net of the olden days, when it wasn't considered shameful to be supported by your family and when money wasn't the sole end-goal of life had withered away and we were left in this Bangalorean world of shiny bikes, hot girlfriends and macho-coolness. I didn't fit anywhere in the picture and longed for the world when pursuit of a deeper meaning was possible.
Running up to Himalayas sounded like an escape and I ran away. I would've felt dead if I lived in the moribund Bangalore. I don't regret it. I think that was the best thing to have done. Even though it was my own helplessness that made the new globalized world appear a dejected place, my escape from it was what gave me a second chance to look at this new world in a different way and find my place in it.
When I started from zero, I could set goals for my life, I could choose my friends or choose not to have any. I held myself responsible for what I did and who I am, instead of feeling as having been setup and victimized everywhere.
A
new confidence was born and some money came on the way but the fear
of taking risk still lingered because of this escape from my habitat.
I could no longer enjoy Rafi and Mukesh. I felt that it was a part of
my own humiliated past, an era that was effaced and forgotten for
hip-hop and sexual liberty. Shunning one's past is never without
feeling a little humiliated – I later realized.
Spending
time in New York, I wished to become a movie-director. But this
uncertainty of one's own past, the humiliation, prevented me from
seeking interested partners and or pursue film-making seriously. It
was as if I had lost a voice. I could never up the camera – because
there was nothing to shoot or cherish for me. I became afraid of my
background, afraid of being judged. In my mind I was hating the world
dominated by big media and shallowness but in reality I was mourning
the death of my own voice.
Afraid
of taking risks and having spiraled into depression, I was soon
to discover finding female partners much more difficult. What
happened with a lack of voice was a little worse. The lack of female
company made sexual pleasure a fantasy, so much so that the real sex
wasn't as much fun any more. The fantasy element seemed more
interesting. The wish to have sex with a girl who lived on the block
seemed more interesting than going to a club and approach sex in
conventional ways.
Sex too, became a way for denying the fear of rejection. It probably had always been like that, it's just that the new liberties, the freedom to choose your surroundings exposed the reality. If I had retired to Himalayas or had lived the centuries old tradition of having an average job and raising families responsibly, I would've have experienced the cycle of rejections and failed relationships.
Fighting
rejection, I soon wasn't interested in women who were interested in
me. Since I wanted to overcome my shortcomings, I wanted to get women
who were not interested in me. I wanted them to like me while always
hating myself for being not good enough for them.
It
was now that I realized that my limits in my world were posed more by
my self-hatred and fear of being rejected than because of my
background. It is this lack of voice that was causing my misery. I
had to go back and correct myself where I had gone wrong.
New
York might have given me great opportunities but it also perpetuated
the view that money is a panacea to my personality issues. I thought
that making money, would have me rise up in the social ladder in this
great melting pot. I didn't know that backgrounds still did matter.
Expression of power was necessary to survive. Money did buy things
and although it was fun throughout, I slowly realized that you needed
loads of money to stay in the game and more importantly to mend your
ever shredding personality.
I
had to correct myself. Goals in life are never linear and pursuit
of money is pointless for the most part. You try
making money and when you realize that you have some, you are already
entrenched in a system that would never let you free. You need money,
but your dreams of a possible quiet life in the Himalayas are more
distant than they once were. You try to talk yourself out of the
dream of settling in Himalayas that you once had.
I knew from the very beginning that I wasn't made for living this dream of monetary glory but when I wasn't left with many options, I went with the flow. I do like feeling victimized and conjure reasons for not having taken risks in life. What needs be pursued is not money put passion. Passions don't survive in the world without money but yet money isn't what drives passion. Ignoring financial constraints may leave you penniless and deny you all experiences that might help you live your passion but caring for nothing except finances can do worse - deny you of passions which you wanted to have money for in first place.
If
you don't pursue what you love, then you're left with what you hate
the most.