A cool end-of-winter breeze gushed inside my room, slicing through my well-knit thought webs. The remnants of the thoughts were hard to recognize, giving a reason to worry further.
I gazed at the sky as dusk gathered with curtains of orange amalgamated with violet and dark shades of grey. It reminded me of the change that was inevitable—perhaps a change for the better.
“Science would be the best subject for you.”
The verdict pronounced by my father came back to me after a while, enveloping my world in a melancholy haze, mind locked up in uncertainties, temporarily suspending my life.
My marks in the subject enlivened the hope in my parents that I could become a doctor, an engineer, or a scientist: a common expectation mingled with the typical conventional approach. My interest in literature seemed to be temporary for them—an impact on my innocent mind that would soon be lost in the harsh realities of repentance for a wrong choice, unemployment, impatience, frustration.
“My vote goes to science,” my parents always said in unison.
I struggled inwardly, torn between the passion to follow my heart and the confirmed secure path adopted by the lucky ones as tagged by the society.
“Vote for Congress! Vote for Congress!”
Thunderous voices interrupted my thought, loudly campaigning for India’s parliamentary elections, which were round the corner. A procession of Congress supporters marching and shouting slogans in a monotonous tone in the street below. Roaring voices penetrated through the busy routine of the prospective voters.
I’d turned eighteen and it was the first time that I’d vote for my country—an identity, a mark that would give me prominence as a citizen of India.
It’s between the two major parties of India: Congress and BJP. You’ve to select one of them.
The discussions continued, their voices not troubled by dilemma, sure about their choices and opinions.
What was the right choice—Congress or BJP? Science or Arts?
Both of the questions tormented my inner being. They were queries interwoven with a light of hope and a shade of disappointment, both cropping up and disappearing randomly—a jumbled up phenomenon of argument being an encumbrance to the rational perspective.
The answers to both the questions were vital and life-changing. A wrong choice would ruin the future.
What’s the right choice?
Who knew?
A leader from humble background with experience? Or, a leader who belonged to an illustrious family?
A passion for literature, or a secured future?
The choice was unclear.
Experiences gained under the shelter of elders were null and void in the present scenario.
Current GDP growth rate of 4.9%, alarming rate of crime—especially cases of atrocities against women, increasing rate of unemployment, and devaluation of rupee were issues that resonated with complex emotions governed by the dictates of family, long-time voters, newspapers, media… The list was endless.
Voices crowded my thoughts, influencing my mind, my career, my country. My thoughts culminated in a decision. I could foresee the hopefulness of tomorrow, a vision not shadowed by delusive ambiguities, a conviction to embrace the unconventional, and a vote meant for difference.
I gazed at the sky as dusk gathered with curtains of orange amalgamated with violet and dark shades of grey. It reminded me of the change that was inevitable—perhaps a change for the better.
“Science would be the best subject for you.”
The verdict pronounced by my father came back to me after a while, enveloping my world in a melancholy haze, mind locked up in uncertainties, temporarily suspending my life.
My marks in the subject enlivened the hope in my parents that I could become a doctor, an engineer, or a scientist: a common expectation mingled with the typical conventional approach. My interest in literature seemed to be temporary for them—an impact on my innocent mind that would soon be lost in the harsh realities of repentance for a wrong choice, unemployment, impatience, frustration.
“My vote goes to science,” my parents always said in unison.
I struggled inwardly, torn between the passion to follow my heart and the confirmed secure path adopted by the lucky ones as tagged by the society.
“Vote for Congress! Vote for Congress!”
Thunderous voices interrupted my thought, loudly campaigning for India’s parliamentary elections, which were round the corner. A procession of Congress supporters marching and shouting slogans in a monotonous tone in the street below. Roaring voices penetrated through the busy routine of the prospective voters.
I’d turned eighteen and it was the first time that I’d vote for my country—an identity, a mark that would give me prominence as a citizen of India.
It’s between the two major parties of India: Congress and BJP. You’ve to select one of them.
The discussions continued, their voices not troubled by dilemma, sure about their choices and opinions.
What was the right choice—Congress or BJP? Science or Arts?
Both of the questions tormented my inner being. They were queries interwoven with a light of hope and a shade of disappointment, both cropping up and disappearing randomly—a jumbled up phenomenon of argument being an encumbrance to the rational perspective.
The answers to both the questions were vital and life-changing. A wrong choice would ruin the future.
What’s the right choice?
Who knew?
A leader from humble background with experience? Or, a leader who belonged to an illustrious family?
A passion for literature, or a secured future?
The choice was unclear.
Experiences gained under the shelter of elders were null and void in the present scenario.
Current GDP growth rate of 4.9%, alarming rate of crime—especially cases of atrocities against women, increasing rate of unemployment, and devaluation of rupee were issues that resonated with complex emotions governed by the dictates of family, long-time voters, newspapers, media… The list was endless.
Voices crowded my thoughts, influencing my mind, my career, my country. My thoughts culminated in a decision. I could foresee the hopefulness of tomorrow, a vision not shadowed by delusive ambiguities, a conviction to embrace the unconventional, and a vote meant for difference.