Since last two years, from the time, I entered into the profession of teaching, it had been something very common, I came to notice in every single student I met; bright or dull. It was the lack of understanding; why they did something? Everybody craved to find the answer to find the answers to how things are done, but nobody wondered why they do this? And believe it or not, the fault lies in the way, we teach them to look at their lives. We are about to frame a generation who will be good in problem solving, but quite poor in creating one and adjusting accordingly.
A very famous saying goes: “what we do to children, is done to the society.” And in the pace of generation defining competition; we have forgotten the very fact that society depends on the way we shape our children’s brains. In an average class of mine, almost 70% of class 8th students had no idea, how to become what they want or why did they want to do that. The same class had a proportion of over 30% of students who had no idea at all, why they were studying a particular subject.
When I completed my schooling with an average marks, the first thing that hit my stubborn mind was: what now? I felt I was on a prelude to destruction. Unlike a vast majority of students, I did not appear in JEE and other aptitude exams even after preparing for it rigorously for than two years. As a result, I did not get into engineering while my other friends scored some shit anyhow and got themselves secured. The idea of not doing anything made me feel scared and as a result, I turned to benzoids and other drugs to keep myself away from the realism. I actually fabled the pigeon who closes his eyes when the cat approaches; thinking closing them would make the cat go away.
After some serious visible health issues, I decided to pull my strings back but addiction did not let me heal. Within months, I was suffering from generalized anxiety disorder and kept myself away from others, as much as possible. And it was this time of solitude that I realized, something was not right with my life. I started questioning my methods. And I realized, I was a fool to do these inane stuffs. The thing I was worried about was never actually made for me. And at the end, if anyone was responsible for my plight; it was I myself.
The very next day, I went out to the sun with my CV to a secondary school and got the first job of my life as a teacher. However the income, was meagre, it was quite satisfying enough to revive my sunken life. And I felt, this was what life had for me in the sandbox that I feared spading up. I was foolish enough to seal myself between the four walls, doping on benzoids and hoping it would save me.
I met people who inspired me, students who took lessons from my stories, and colleagues who taught me to perform and persevere into the task. And that is how, the man under my name got its colors.
Slowly, I turned to my passion and jumped into writing.
People still laugh at me and make me feel low as writing is not a government job. It won’t pay you a technical degree either. But it gives me a sense of freedom and moral conviction towards, what I tell as a story to my readers. Somewhere, some part of me asks this to myself: what do you want to do with this?
But as I said it earlier, the problem with us is, that we do not ask ourselves the right question.
So I asked myself: why do you want to do this?
And my inner voice replied: “because I do what I want to.”
And that’s it. Never let anyone tell, you can’t do something. Not even yourself. Throwing motivation at your face would be easy but you know; it’s not my story that’s is going to inspire you. It is going to be your own. You may choose to become, what others want you to be or choose to be yourself. The pain lies in both ways. But the pain of choice would be easier than pain of moral neutrality.
Maybe you fail. And then fail again. People may stop trusting in your ideas and think you are useless. You may lose friends or those you love or respect. But it is just holding on to your dreams that is going to make it come true.
What you and me consider as destructive maybe; the prelude to definition.