There are those times
in life when you feel so inadequate, like you want to be that little kid again,
giggling over flowers, catching the pretty butterflies, having your cheeks
pinched and pulled, running to mommy crying after a little fall, hiding in her
dupatta when a big, grinning adult looms over you, and having not much else to
care for. Nothing you do or say can be contested or challenged. Nothing makes
you feel any smaller than your peers. No difficult feelings invade your mind
and threaten to sink you under them.
When
did all that change? When did life become such a competition? When did people
start judging people based on their ideas of what should be? When did we start
caring about how these people felt?
Nobody is perfect, and neither
is it humanly possible to fit every person’s definition of it. And yet, we are constantly
after pleasing someone or other. Most prevalent on that list of ‘someone’s is
oneself. Why do we expect so much from ourselves?
Why can’t we love ourselves, just the way we
are? Strive to achieve, put in our all, but know we could not have done
anything differently and thus escape crushing disappointment, should we fail?
Why do we try to excel at so many things and feel extreme discontent when we
end up being a jack of all trades, master of none? Why do we start judging
ourselves and condemning ourselves when we fail to meet expectations despite
giving it our all?
The
above is the stupidest thing I have ever written.
Obviously, the above rant is all
true and the answer to each one is “because we are human!” We are a mentally
backward species with the tendencies of a deranged lunatic throughout our
lives. We are irrational, self-centered, and utterly petulant-child-like.
We are
easily bored, and in eternal pursuit of comfort. We handle the difficult stuff
with a pair of extremely long tongs, held carefully away like the most viral
disease in existence. We are under-confident and wildly hormonal. Always. Not just
when a teen, or pregnant, or menopausal. Always. And we refuse to believe it!
Our lives’ aims are to show everyone around us up. Stupidly, we think that
miraculously makes us look better than the actual creatures we are. But, hey!
That’s who we are!
And I
am fiercely, dangerous-escaped-convict-like, wildly, and passionately glad of
the fact. An ideal world would be such a
drag, no fun at all. What would life be like if we all reacted rationally all
the time? The very basis of enjoyment in life is its sheer unpredictability. If
everyone’s reactions could be predicted, our existence would be so …so… yawn…mind-numbingly
boring!
Strange
as this may sound, I want to be capable of feeling crushing, heart-rending
sadness. I want to able to enjoy the heady feeling of complete victory or
achievement. I want to be able to stand
the alternate extreme, warm joy and tear-jerking pain of a blushing heart under
the spell of another of God’s imperfect creatures. I want to feel the irrational,
all-forgiving, blind and fiercely protective love every mother does. I want to
be able to appreciate the restlessness of my mind when I’m in the dark about
things, want to feel the suspense that accompanies every one of life’s tests,
want to be scared and feel the joy of overcoming it.
I want to feel imperfect, inadequate,
so I can feel the drive that accompanies it to do better. I want to feel the
crushing disappointment or discontent when things don’t go my way even though I
tried my damnedest. I want to feel the happiness I do in beholding pretty
flowers or graceful cats or adorable puppies or my own Austen-inspired
fantasies. I want to feel my heart thud in anticipation, the heat rise to my
face in response to an affront or much-appreciated compliment, and my legs
tremble on a stage in front of hundreds. I want to feel the uncertainty and
insecurity accompanying any unsure thing, want to feel the tiny triumphant
feeling in going ahead with it anyway.
I want to feel the extreme curiosity over
anything that can inspire it, and the magnificent dissatisfaction with anything
that attempts to quench it. I want to be able to blush at my own stupidity, and
laugh at another’s. Above all, I want to change not everything, not something,
not anything at all.
Life as an irrational human is the
best thing that ever happened to me. We can always learn, grow, improve or have
the appearance of it, but essentially, we are the same interesting,
unpredictable, child-like creatures we always were. And Thank God for it!
