Friday, 27 January 2017

Who am I?



Who am I? A young man in the early thirties. A man who has had no fun of any sorts. A man who has a paunch and a bald patch. A man who has aged prematurely. A man who gets irritated by the slightest of the thing. A man who has anger at the drop of the hat. Anger with the establishment. Anger with the office politics. Anger with the genetics that caused me lose my hair. Anger with my family members who unlike me are able to enjoy the joys of life. Is this me? Unfortunately yes.

Once I too was a little boy with dreams in his eyes. Concentrate on your studies. You can dream later my parents told me. So I studied. I studied day and night, and gave up all play. I wanted to impress my parents. I wanted to make them happy. I wanted them to be proud of me. Thanks to my preparation, persistence and perseverance, I was extremely confident of my performance. Yet there was no denying that there were butterflies in my stomach when the day of results approached.

The result was out. I got 99 marks in mathematics out of 100. I stood second in the school for there was another boy who had scored 100 out of 100. ‘Where did you lose one mark?’ My mother asked me. By losing one mark I had robbed her joy, her pride of being the mother of the boy who had scored cent per cent marks. I felt terribly guilty. I felt like a failure, while those who had just scraped through their exams enjoyed their success. I had stood second, but still I was a failure when it came to securing the first spot. Yet I completed my education from a reputed college.

Then I fell in love and married the girl I loved. She was an exceptionally beautiful and bright girl. She had an image of her prince charming in her mind and I did all that I could to fit into that image. I did the things which I didn’t like and the things which didn’t suit me, like spending a fortune on that ludicrously expensive suit in which I felt like a clown. But I did it. I even severed my ties with my parents because my wife did not like it.

I did everything that I could to make other happy, to make others like me. But the end result was that neither I was happy nor did I like myself. 


Then came the #MagicOfWarmth. I stood before the mirror and said. ‘I love you very much. I love you irrespective of the fact whether you stand first or second. I love you the way you are. So what if you don’t fit into that nonsensical image of prince charming? I love you, and remember one thing it doesn’t matter if anyone loves you or not, I will love you until my last breath and my love will not reduce like that of the waning moon.’
 

“I’m blogging about my #MagicOfWarmth moment at BlogAdda in association with Parachute Advansed Hot Oil

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