Delhi has been my home for more than a
decade and a half. I am so obsessed with it that I never want to leave this
city. The reason being, the city gave me freedom to live the way I want, to do
what I wish to. When young, I always felt clutched and used to wonder if I
would ever get to live on my own terms.
And now here I’m, living my life my way,
going places that I dreamt of visiting as a child, buying possibly everything I
can. Every morning when I face the mirror, I can’t stop admiring myself for
being independent, for what I’ve achieved till now and for what I’ll be
achieving in the years to come.
How can I miss on the best things the world
has to offer? No chance!!
But something was missing. I didn’t realize
it until one winter morning when I woke up early and peeped out of my window.
There was something in the air, I felt.
No, the wind wasn’t flowing smoothly. Nor
the flowers were blooming. Rather, it was a cold winter morning with a thick
fog, in mid January. The street was deserted for a few minutes until I saw a
woman with her two school-going children, clad in neatly ironed trousers, shiny
blue blazers and well-polished black shoes.
When I stepped into my balcony, I could see
that she was literally dragging her kids out of the house, telling them to
hurry up or else they would miss their school bus. But the little ones were in
no hurry.
“Mama I forgot my lunch box; I’ll quickly go
inside and bring it”, said the younger one.
“It’s with me. Now why don’t you run and
catch the bus”, his mother yelled at him.
Unwillingly, he with his elder brother continued
to walk slowly towards the bus stop, kicking a stone with his well-polished
shoes. He waved with a smile when he saw me watching him from the balcony.
I waved back and said, “uff thandi (It’s
cold)”.
“Mujhe to nhi lag rahi. Maine to garam
shirt pehni hai (I’m not feeling cold as I’m wearing a warm shirt)”, the little
boy said happily.
“Maine bhi (I too have worn warm clothes)”,
I replied pointing towards my warm track suit.
“Arre maine to press (iron) ki hui shirt
pehni hai, garam garam (No, I’m wearing a freshly ironed shirt. It is warm.)”,
he shouted from the end of the road.
I couldn’t help laughing and was wondering
at the same time. I was showing him my new tracksuit that I had bought a few
days back and that little boy was happy with the warmth a freshly ironed shirt
was giving him.
I came back inside and got busy with my
morning rituals. But I couldn’t forget his bubbly face, glowing with happiness.
I realized not only years have mounted up
but I have grown materialistic too. Even an expensive tracksuit from one of my
favourite brands couldn’t bring that much happiness and satisfaction as that
freshly ironed shirt gave to the little boy.
I thought of my childhood when I was happy
wearing the same uniform not only for days and weeks but for 12 years. And now
here I’m, dissatisfied even when my cupboard is overflowing with expensive
stuff.
The real joy was missing.
I wait for big things to happen to feel
happy. I wait for special occasions to celebrate. Wearing a freshly-ironed
shirt doesn’t give me warmth. Drinking a glass full of milk in one breath, stealing
my brother’s chocolates and waking up early on Sunday mornings to watch Rangoli
don’t make me happy.
All I’m left with is impulsiveness,
dissatisfaction, perplexities, materialism and competition. Knowingly or
unknowingly, am I also confining to the society’s definition of a ‘good life’?
Am I too becoming a conformist? Am I missing on everyday adventures that life
has to offer?
I was constantly thinking and analyzing
subconsciously if I was really free and happy. I thought it was me who needed
to learn things. That little boy already knew what joy was. I should learn to
feel it inside me and in all the small ways possible.
Dressed up and ready to leave for work, I
saw myself in the mirror. It said all I needed to know.
It said that I still needed to go back to
school! I needed to learn to handle little things and find joy in tiny
miracles.
