‘Until when are you going to do all this; you’re already 25, enough of these childish antics, get some real work’, lectured dadi, as I sat on the porch recovering from a twelve kilometer run I do on most active rest days. The whole day has spiraled down into thoughts of self-doubt – ‘what am I doing with myself and my education’, ‘what is the future of climbing in this country’, ‘am I too old to consider an unconventional career’, ‘how will I ever be able to start a family with my girlfriend, who is insisting on marriage and quite regularly has dilemmas about our financial security’. Pursuing dreams is something clearly out of bounds in our social scheme.
Given that the country produces the highest number of engineers each year, the same engineers who fill up most seats in our MBA institutions, we as a nation are putting the mouth where the money is, quite literally. ‘Salary packages’ is our favorite topic after ‘school grades of neighbor’s children’. As long as you earn a six figure it doesn’t matter if you steal from pensioners or have sold your soul to the devil.
As if the physical rigors of a sport, the challenge of managing fitness, nutrition and funds weren’t enough, people around only add to the stress and mental pressure. Do we as a nation, no longer remember how to appreciate the passion in a dance, the delight of poetry or the heroes that we find in sports?
Wake up! It is people from among us who mill out creative products that inspire, motivate, break the monotony and ensure that we don’t forget to be ‘human’ after all. All we need is some trust and a little love.