HOW FAR GONE? - Joyful Thiek

The last leaf had fallen. The bitter cold of yet another fruitless year hits hard as the last drops of a mocking November rain finally settle in Delhi. The clock struck 12. It was my birthday.

I could imagine Mom writhing in pain as she pushed baby Joyful out into the world. I could imagine Dad sitting by her side, holding her hands, praying. It would be a cold night on a small dimly-lit house in Phulpui, a small village in the Vangai Hills of Churachandpur. A company of relatives would be gathered around the fireplace. The room would not get any warmer, but for Mom and Dad, the merciless cold would no longer matter because their worlds had just been made warmer by the beautiful baby boy.

It would be a joyful night. It was a night that brings hope into a hopeless world.

Mom and Dad would be praying that night, dedicating this child into the hands of the Almighty, asking Him to guide and lead him into all he can be. They were going to shower this boy with nothing but love as he grows up, and someday he's going to become a great man, an officer, a missionary. That was a promise. That was a dream.

It was this hope that greeted me when I first came into the world. It is this hope that has lived on through the years gone by.

Sitting now wrapped tight around a blanket as I fight the winter cold of Delhi, I pondered over all the things that were, all the things that are. How far gone am I from that dream? How far gone have I stray from my parents' hopes and expectations, from my aim-in-life?

When did I last look at my high school days and ask if I'm a step closer from becoming the man that I'd hoped to be? It was easy then. I could be anything I wanted to be. "My aim in life is to become a doctor, an IAS officer, an engineer, a missionary, a pilot..."

Each passing year brings in bigger chunks of reality. Each passing year takes away a portion of that dream. And the blame falls on reality, the way of life...it's just how things are. Life's not a fairy tale. Blappity blah.

But the reality of it all, sadly, is that I kept failing at each step. I became lazy. I settled. I compromised. I became afraid to dream because dreams don't come true. Because, for each success story, there's a thousand people that fails.

And like so many before me, I have put the blame on all things but myself.

I came to Delhi with a dream. I've been here 8 months and that dream has faded away like those last drops of the cold November rain.

I am not your Sociaholic (though you wished I was), but it's a known fact I'm a regular at social gatherings. I know the ins and outs of Munirka, I frequent Mahipalpur, and I live in Safdarjung. I've sung, danced, joked my way around both religious and cultural events. I know the girls because I've socially flirted with most of them. I know the guys because I'm friends with them. I know the dark secrets, the happy lies, the so-called rumours, the harsh truths, the untold stories at all parties. I make new friends, get rid of old friends. It's a party, a condolence meeting, a Thalai Pawl event, an HSA thing, I'm there. I'm everywhere. I am the amazing Spiderman and I shout till my voice cracks at Tamchon.

Delhi is every sociaholic's dream come true, and sadly, I am one to the very core. And for the weak and immature, which I also am, Delhi is a total nightmare. It is a place where dreams die.

All of us come to Delhi with a dream. We are here because we're looking for a good job, a better education, to start up a business or maybe find a suitable husband or wife and start a better life. We are here because we once had an ambition. We came here ripe with hopes. And our parents' prayer at the airport or at the bus-stand when they saw us off was that of success for their child who had just stepped into maturity.

How far gone are we from those ambitions? When did we lose our way? Do we even dream anymore? Yes, the socio-cultural involvement is good, the parties are fun, the movies are entertaining, going over to a friend's place is nice, but to what extent? Have we gone in so deep we can't find our way back home?

Life is not a competition of who puts in the least labour and still manages a pass-mark. It's not a competition of who switched jobs the most, who works the least, who attends the least number of classes. It's not how many days you stay drunk, not how many parties you attend, nor is it about beating up some guy. That's nothing to boast about.

There's an unpromising reality we try desperately to avoid. But we know deep down all the excuses in the world will not prevent the inevitable from happening.

So doston, let's make the best out of our stay here in Delhi. Let's make Delhi into the land of opportunities that she used to be. Let's try to find our way back to when we first came here and pray we don't fall again.

I know this article should come from someone who's had had success and if anything, I'm the last person to dispense off such advice. But out in the open, I know it could serve as a constant reminder to myself of the reason for my being here, which is easily forgotten, believe me. This day on my birthday, I have decided to work on finding my way back into reality as yet another year dawns on me. And if by some chance, someone somewhere feels compelled to do the same, this article would have been a great success.

[Joyful Thiek is joint-editor of DT. He is an engineer from NIT Jamshedpur and has previously worked as Asst. Manager at Vedanta Aluminium Ltd., Orissa. He currently resides in Safdarjung Enclave, New Delhi and freelances in web-design and development.]