Food for thought

Not very long ago, a very close friend of mine had come over to my place for something I don’t recall.  He met my mom and they got to talking and she asked him “What are the three things that you want most in life?”  Without a second of hesitation, my “friend” replied, “Success.  Happiness.  Satisfaction.”  My mother looked at me like I wasn’t her flesh and blood.  Believe me when I tell you, she would have disowned me for sure if she could.  Why, you ask?  She asked me the same question the previous day.  I didn’t have a second of hesitation either in saying “Mum, FOOD.  MORE FOOD.  EVEN MORE FOOD.”  She walked away probably thinking “God. Save. My. Child.”  But it didn’t strike me up until the moment that Mr. Perfect here went all philosophical on me that my mother would actually be sensitive and mad at me for what I said.  Two things to note, I ate a lot.  Mum kept feeding me. Like.  So much.  The other thing, she didn’t say a word.  Weird, but I couldn’t care less with all the food going in.

There are two kinds of people – People who plan for the future and are THAT mature from a very early stage, and people who do things that best suit their interests at that particular instant in time.  Well, I’m neither.  There’s often been scathing scrutiny about the legitimacy of my humanness, but to be honest, I really am neither.  I’m the kind of person who doesn’t care much unless it is of utmost importance.  I’m the person who plans out way ahead of time, fails to execute, ends up doing everything at the crucial moment.  One could say I’m a hybrid of the two types of people.  I’m like the Divergent in the never ending struggle of supremacy between Erudite and the rest of the world.  Being the hybrid’s always worked for me.  Always.  And I like how it works.  Always.  I know, I can be a little ruthless with my references, but Potterhead. Represent.

Anyway, in an incredible turn of events, my mother, who usually doesn’t get too personal with my day to day stuff gets up close to me and says “You’re going to finish college now.  Figure stuff out.”  This got me thinking.  Very hard.  I went into my room, locked myself in, and started doing what I always do, I picked up a book and got to reading.  Three hours of radio silence later, I ended up regretting ever having picked up that particular book.  Book review aside, I was famished.  I sat at the table across dad who was already home because I was reading and I didn’t really pay attention to the time.  So I ate.  A lot.  Like. So much.  Throughout dinner, mum was giving me signals to talk to dad about my future and what I was going to do.  I refused to, because I LIKE MY FANTASY BUBBLE.  Mum kept insisting, obviously.  This went on for a good five minutes.  Then dad slowly looked up and said “He knows what he’s doing.  Leave him be.”  That’s when I figured out many beautiful things.  One, Dad knows all.  Two, Mum worries too much.  Three, the future is a big deal.  Four, I have high hopes resting on my shoulders.  Five, food is bae.  Six, I should probably ignore five.  Seven, food is clouding my judgement, I need to get a move on.  Eight, Aaaahhhhhhhh.  Nine, finally. I need to start planning ahead.

The sun rose in all its resplendence the next day, but sadly I wasn’t awake to see it.  So at around 11 in the AM, I sat down with my laptop, a scribbling pad and a pen and began doing some research on what clichés people usually adhere to after college, and how to defy the cliché, and what I could possibly end up doing.  Hours.  This took hours.  At around four, I’d hit rock bottom.  I had no idea what I was going to do and was beginning to freak out.  Like is almost always do, I decide that a shower’s the best thing that could help.  In the shower, where my brain works at a 100% when you can’t note anything down, I have this epiphany.  I begin to think that I should continue my education, possibly in a foreign land, where there would be scope for both education and adventure.  I’m obviously intrigued by the latter, but the former also gets my brain into hyper drive.  I then begin to do some crazy research about masters programmes and courses and what not.  In a matter of hours, I’d probably spent the most productive hours of my life, ever, period.  I’m going to be doing my Masters in a course of my choice, in a university of my choice and I will be focussing a major chunk of my efforts towards achieving this target.

I learnt a few other life lessons from this traumatizing, yet fruitful experience.  One, our parents are going to put pressure on us, but they’re never going to cut the leash loose.  You’re going to have their financial and moral support till the very end.  That’s the way things work in India.  Two, no matter what happens, do not introduce your intellectually superior and philosophically sound friends to your parents.  That fat snob is the whole reason I got into this mess to begin with.  Three, you’re your greatest motivator and detective.  With no regard to the many things you hear from the outside world, there’s only going to be one idea that makes you feel complete and purposeful.  Hold on to that and never let go.  The beauty of it all is the fact that this idea will be a child borne only in your brain and none else. Four, food is bae.