Work will be Work, Play might remain Play

“Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life” ~ Confucius (551-479 BC)

Circa, 500 BC

Sire, I agree civilization has prospered and we have graduated from hunters-gatherers to cultivators-warriors, also I agree few by-product businesses like carpenter, potter, blacksmith, shepherd etc have mushroomed, yet in truth job market is still rudimentary and career opportunities too painfully limited, to entertain ideas as elusive as yours. Not to mention deep rooted social stratification holding preconceived notions of class-caste based hierarchical roles and statuses, offering little social mobility. I mean, I am poor farmer, why on earth would I not love to be, let say, a king?? But you tell me Sire, Is there a way?? No. It’s all hereditary inheritance Sire, and all this choose-life-stuff you propagate is nothing but fraudulent talk, having no reality base.

Even if I could choose things I love, I doubt its eternity. You know my love for my wife peaked the day we got married, and since then our relationship equation has only traced a descending hill. Similarly, would not what I will love to do for a living, I will end up loving it a little bit lesser, everyday. No Sire, I am not being dramatic?? Sire, as a child accompanying my father to fields was all fun. No compulsion, just free will. I loved the human-nature interaction, and it made me feel little wiser everyday. But by pre-adulthood when it became essential, it changed the way I interacted with my “lovable” work. It was less fun and more about survival instinct. It became an existential quest and started to own me, and pretty soon the love part died a young death.

Sire like yours, I have heard of some respectful jobs demanding little physical efforts like philosophers, political thinkers, mathematicians, architect and painters yet no one told me who teaches all that. But Sire I believe that fella must be a desperate teacher he often teaches everything to each and every few of those who in divine providence find him. Thus we have either ignorant majority working their arse off to meet ends or the limited editions of polymaths who are into the pleasant routine of thinking.

But Sire, please don’t mind my asking that, but is it not that this thinking job, seemingly howsoever pleasant is monotonous and at times equally demanding as well. Isn't it true that you abandoned your wife and child for your ideological pursuit?? Must be very hard.. no?? I mean now even I can fancy abandoning my wife… but my child !! No Sire, never. It would be too selfish and cruel of me to do so. Please don’t think I am accusing you. How can I!! We are but men of different caliber  But still Sire your choices are extreme, isn't it so that life takes a middle path??   
 
Sire, I guess you talk all this deception only to sound awesome and learned. Or else, you might do believe in the futile wisdom of what you say. In both cases we are too different as if two men from entirely different times. I, and people like me, are never going to understand the utility of your pompous words. To me it is a hurtful lie to fall for. And If I do I will only end up feeling like something is inherently wrong with me, when in reality this entire idea you are trying to sell is basically corrupt. Generations to come, can quote and fancy you, but sorry Sire I am not interested in buying your product.

P.S. : New in job-market and exposed to HR cliché so often, each aiming to program us folks into accepting them without doubt, hence tried being cynical to defend my inability to follow them.

I feel, he reasons

“Incomprehensible it may be yet it is relieving” I doubted, “With all the potential to be a nightmare” concluded the Chief. My fantasies need his sanction but a reluctant soul he is, too controlled. He overly shams perfection, never lets doubts grow; too cautious, too afraid; ephemeral they are “The exit will be followed by emptiness alone” he prophesized, attempting to kill it infant. My imagination has always inclined away from normalcy and the Chief is humanly numb, …Tch none makes sense. Silence was unwelcome  I whistled with faint smile. “Is thinking so tough or your senses have sublimed?” I feel, he reasons, we are at loggerheads.

I have to follow Chief, I owe him much. Seldom has I like listening him, he instructs me much. Not that Chief is always right, though I keep my grudges hushed, not once did I revolt, he already intimidates me enough. Tight air of silence prevailed. Suffocated, I fought all the inertia, and opened the window; the Chief objected that too “Strangers might peep in”. No arguments. I have to believe in Chief, I hardly trust others. None can even closely match Chief. He says he knows all. The Chief is wisdom. I feel, he reasons, we are at loggerheads.

At times, in Chief’s absence, I do peep out of that window. And I often see cheerful strangers, unlike him. But having known Chief so long most of these cheerful people seem shallow, or at best not concerned about depths. I mean no dishonour to those shallow cheerful strangers, and I might well be biased as Chief is my only window to world. Chief might be a sad fellow, but he is constant in his purpose. If he so wishes Chief can be most of them, but most of them can’t be chief. The Chief is purposeful. I feel, he reasons, we are at loggerheads.

Not that the Chief was always like this. Once he too was carefree and romanced life. In fact he was more human than one should have been allowed to. Something happened then, he will kill me If I tell you what, he already intimidates me enough. He claims he is content now, I doubt though, as he overly shams. He has grown too realistic since, conveniently deadened from his past. He mostly talks of future, of sacrifices and will power. I try to show him the present, but for chief it’s a thing of past. He says he has gone through all. The Chief is experienced. I feel, he reasons, we are at loggerheads.   

Though I keep my grudges hushed, not once did I revolt, but the chief sense it, the chief knows it all. He never mentioned openly but he gives subtle hints that our partnership has a destination at which it culminates. I care least about destination except that 'when will it arrive?'. I need not care. Chief has everything planned, and though he is a sad fellow the Chief is wisdom. I just hope after dropping me there the Chief learns to relax. However he may sham, I know, deep inside he is still alive. The Chief is pretension. The Chief is mentor. I feel, he reasons, we are at loggerheads, till one day, and then we will be on same side.         

           

Down south so far

“Chennaaai !!! Dude you’re going to be so dead” declared a friend confidently as I indifferently informed where my professional standards were chartered to. Learned pessimisms were shot, to kill me in Delhi itself, from all and sundry including even those who never had crossed Vindhyas once. Diverse set of warning were offered, from an expected "It’s so Hot there" to challenging "The Language will deafen and dumb you" to even epitaphs as "May your libido rest in peace", from each according to his personal concerns. 

Ironically, the more people pushed to dispirit me, the further determined I turned to enjoy the Chennaite stint. Libido issue was bothersome, but given Delhi too did not turn to be a place for restlessness down south, I overcame that. And I overcame other pity concerns citing to others in a self assuring tone, that how great a recluse I am and Chennai will be all peace and solitude. I even re-read 'English, August', the story of a troubled IAS trainee in an obscure spot in Tamil Nadu, this time with the aim to criticize Sen at every complaint, to ensure that the problem was with the spoilt brat and not Madna.

Finally, with “Unity in diversity” & “Vasudhev Kutumbakkam” as my guiding mantras, silently recited on loop, I stepped in Chennai. For my acquired karmyogi’s mindset, prepared for all the adversities in the entire universe expecting nothing in return, even a smiling ‘Namaste’ from a semi-Hindi-speaking-pure-Tam-taxi-driver (a rare species) felt bliss. The hour long ride with ‘Anna’ paralleled a talkathon, where discussing Rajni, Rehman and R.Ashwin  I appreciated in depths the immense indulgence in entertainment of an average Indian and its benefits for national Integration . The next 10 days at company accommodation was a grand stay with royal treatment, a pleasure due since 6 years given the name of my graduation hostel was “King’s palace”.

They say after summit the journey ahead is all downhill. They weren’t lying, not to me. Right out of the palatial stay the kings were reduced to nomads, abhorred by an entire class-community called 'Flat owners', for they were ‘not-religiously-entitled-to-have-sex’ (read bachelors) and hence devoid of even the least possibility of a civilized existence, a mythical correlation which some regression analyst should try discard. Even an hour long telephonic interview with a prospective owner, where we pledged to stay away from any pleasure of flesh, both literal and figurative, went disappointing as the established conviction said “bachelors are unhygienic species”. Anyways just before its infant death, the sinking optimism curve met an asymptote and ever since we are engaged in settling down, which given the pace might extend till infinity.     

Looking back, the Chennaite stint has already transformed me a lot as a person. I have parted ways with unsound chauvinism and no longer regard an umbrella unmanly, given the heat and consequent tan. The local food, and the serving manners, took my appetite to abysmal depths and my buckle to long forgotten holes. My tolerance knows no boundary thanks to the auto rickshaw union which has raped both my frugality and sense of justice at the rate of Rs 30 per Km, recurrently. "Aaiyyoo" no more sounds funny and I no longer feel distraction of youthful aspirations, as 'PYTs' are hard to find and even when discovered are so uninviting that one mischievous signal and their fathers might be chasing you.   

Anyways, as I said, I came here seeking peace and solitude, as in it’s a poor man’s Himalayas. I have been offered both but unfortunately with a tinge of loneliness. While you are concerned that you got to do more in life and are trying hard to motivate and push yourself for that extra mile, the city in its laid back attitude, nudges you and says “Relax!! Why so impatient? There is more in life than you think”, but offers little choices. The simplicity of its people, their modest way of life and the pride in their culture all interlock perfectly yet as in a jigsaw puzzle with a missing piece somewhere there is a void left, blemishing not only the image but creating a hole in you as well. Combination of inner void and restlessness, a fertile ground for fruitful dissatisfaction. While I raise my dissatisfaction quotient I am already into creating an alternative universe, seeking worthy pseudo intellectual existence, through active self indulgence and wandering thoughts scribed all over my walls, searching what I should be, whoever that is.      

A newlywed, bachelor

I vividly recall how at the end of graduation, when the first among us was leaving college for that one final time, we playfully farewelled him on the tunes of “Babul ki duwaein leti ja, ja tujhko sukhi sansar miley”. Back then it was merely a cover up performance, shielding defenceless emotions from vulnerable exposure, underneath a cloak of humour. Now, couple of years down the lane, through a new joiner’s perspective, retrospectively, it echoes back as a fairly fitting farewell song, cause the resembling parallels observed portray a first time new joiner analogically much closer to a newlywed bride. And to quench your ‘How so?’ I have reasons in plenty raining ‘how not?’. Take a small leap of imagination and may be you can appreciate few of the following similarity linking him and her.


Like her he too has recently departed a long cherished world of carefree existence, he once thought he was born into for forever. Like her he too has entered a new world which he and his parents long dreamt of for him, but yet the incongruity there creates longing for past. Like her he too is given a short honeymoon period for transition full of care, co-operation and travel, but soon like her he too is fettered in the new status with customary behavioural role play, which once he so objected. Like her he too is welcomed as a special member in the family only to be placed at the centre of in depth analysis by the older residents, who judge, appraise and ridicule consistently in course of authority imposition.

Like her he too is to carry a tag, an albatross around his neck, signifying his fidelity as a committed employee and existence as being taken. Like her he too gives up outfits depicting randomness of young imaginations and is restricted to a dress code marking a reluctant acceptance of a force-fed maturity. Like her he too is no longer a freewheeling individual but a faceless stoic tangled in the labyrinth of permissions, shift timings, project deadlines and no-tailgating gateways, all manoeuvring his time and motion.

Like her his last world too, matters only as a training centre for the new world and any other memory is to be kept to his private self. Like her he too sweats entire day closely scrutinised, impatiently waiting for the relishing night for private moments of pleasure. Like her he too is expected to adopt immediately, perform faithfully, live loyally and the biggest anticipation of all ‘ to “deliver” soon and help the new world grow.

Sadly a sharp contrast being, she gets laid to deliver and he is laid off on failing to do so, and further in such situations only his pain is devoid of any pleasurable stir.

PS: Since you reached this far you have all the rights to abuse the absurdity of the giant leap of imagination. :D