What do you wanna be, when you grow up ???

“We’ve gathered here to celebrate the successful completion of Oracle Compression Activity. Congrats to the team who did an error- free compression.….. ” Clap Clap Clap….. I clapped too…. Transition, handover, SOW, SLA…… phew!!!!!! I just close my eyes and ask myself “what are you doing, Devi? where have you ended up???? Is this what you wanted to do in life?”

Are we all doing what we wanted to do in our lives??

The first profession that appealed to me was that of a homemaker. Mom, I thought was the luckiest on earth. She can stay back home all day and she need not worry about exams or assignments. I didn't really give much thought on the 'home-making' part, or the fact that she was into a role that left her with no time to herself. Later on- being a teacher fascinated me. I used to adore their power- the stern voice, the red ink pen - their legacy, the thin long bamboo cane, black board and white/multicolor chalk…. I so wanted to be a teacher that I started rehearsing my ‘teaching’ skills. Wrapped in a shawl (my version of a sari), a cane in one hand, I started teaching trees plants and the lichen covered stone steps. I had a student for real too…..Chandran, our maid Sharada chechi’s brother. I taught him all what was taught to me in school- least bothered if he understood or not and then would question him (the part I loved the most). He- for sure, would be clueless and would stretch his palm, for his teacher to punish him with her cane. How I wanted to be a teacher- the cane, the red pen, the saris, chalk n the black board….

Few years later, my dad asked me, “Do you want to learn music?” I nodded yes without any delay. A harmonium found its place in our chavadi aka drawing room followed by, Keshavan sir-the teacher, to introduce me to the world of carnatic music. Our grandpa presented me and my cousin bro before him- with an instruction to mold us to next generation Yesudas/Chitra. We were introduced to different versions of ‘sa ri ga ma pa dha ni sa-s. Never have my throat experienced such pressure, as it struggled to meet the varying sruti. My cousin stopped coming home on weekends for fear of having to pursue the classes and I-left with no other choice, continued my voyage with carnatic music for few more years. Did the thought of being a carnatic singer appeal to me??? I think so, except for times when my mom asked me to sing as part of entertaining guests. Yes, I have dreamt of singing at ‘kacheris’ (concerts)- in kanchipuram sari, a red round bindi, hair- adorned with jasmine garland…..

One fine day, on a trip to my grand-aunts place, I found a stethoscope- that belonged to her late father in law- an ayurvedic doctor. The moment the beat of a heart fell on my ears, I envisioned myself in a different avatar- the white coat and stethoscope around my neck. From that day when someone posed me the question-

“valuthaakumbo molkku aaraakanam???”    (Read-“what do you wanna be when you grow up??”)

I would say with a shy smile,” doctor”. Everyone wanted me to be a doctor to the point that our family doc Dr. Shamla promised a room for me in her clinic. But the very thought of a syringe/blood would make me feel uneasy. My rank in medical entrance test proved that it was not my cup of tea. Without much remorse- I started looking at other vocations. I ended up with an engineering degree and here I am- a drop in the IT crowd….. a vocation I never thought existed when I was posed with the question :-

“valuthaakumbo molkku aaraakanam???”

Yeh jo des hai tera.........

Rapes rapes everywhere….. every single day…. But you see,” highly dented-painted women” “should have called the culprits ‘brothers’ and begged before them to stop”. In fact, both the rapist and the victim are equally responsible- say some!!!

101 crore meant for betterment of poor, has mysteriously found its way to the pockets of politicians and govt officials.  They do have proof that shows a small part of the amount being allocated to poor. Alas! Those recipients are either dead/ fictional.

Two soldiers guarding the borders brutally killed by neighboring country army and we have a set of legislators – “lodging strong protests” while the other side, as expected denying any such incident.

Murders, hate speeches, conspiracies, homicides, extortions, accidents, scandals, more and more rapes- all sorts of incidents which make you want to run away from this part of the planet. I could take no more, I folded back the newspaper. I step out of our building, coughing as the thick fog enveloped me- it’s not the weather, but insect repellant. On the road- there lies, not one but many-dogs. Yawning-the sharp teeth on display, chasing the garbage collector truck, chasing two wheelers- well, it’s their kingdom. A young mom and her kid trying to shoo away one of them- in vain! One of them started barking and the whole community joined the barking competition. I mustered enough courage and walked, praying to get a glimpse of an empty rik. Relived on spotting one, I thought of one Ms.Gandhi and PETA and similar bodies and of Nirbhaya and many other unknown faces, of the fate of women vs that of animals.

I was running late to work. Roads-dug up for reasons unknown, traffic jams, eunuchs/young mothers begging with their kids. I can’t comprehend the state of my mind as I sat in the rik, oblivious to the begging! A man- running amidst moving traffic, to board a moving bus! A road roller, busy- filling potholes with crude stones- blocking traffic during the peak hours.  Whom to complain? Whom to question? I couldn’t help, but smile as Rahman crooned in my ears….

“yeh jo des hai tera….

swades hai tera”