Tag: ambition

Through the glass window…

Last Friday, even though it was just me in my solitude (मैं और मेरी तन्हाई…cringe yet?), I struggled to acknowledge, “I did it.” It feels like the moment these words leave my mouth and enter the universe, they cease to exist in the realm of reality; that is, if they were true in the first place. But I did it! And as scared and as vulnerable as I feel saying that, I almost force myself to take a second and breathe it in…and I just cannot.

I write this from my very tiny NYC apartment. It took everything to get here. I have been dreaming about this for 16 years, or maybe more. What I feel right now is what I felt looking at “Starry Nights” at MoMA in December 2023. Art critics who say it’s overrated can take a walk!

I saw Gogh’s paintings for the first time in my “General Knowledge” book in maybe fifth grade, and the groovy brush strokes were almost like an electromagnetic field pulling me in. And I remember wanting to share it with my friends but no one seemed to care. They don’t “get it”, the 10-year-old me had concluded. And it was only the beginning of many things my friends wouldn’t “get” and I would feel completely out of place and time growing up. (And they would all turn out to be WAY cooler than I’d ever be!). So I buried myself in books, and literature, and art. And as a sixteen-year-old, I had thought about what it would feel like to look at “Starry Nights” in real life! So I wanted to apply to colleges in the US based on everything I’d heard, read, and seen on TV, and that idea would immediately get shot down.

Little did I know I would stand in front of “Starry Nights” amongst a supercharged throng at MoMA in a couple decades. And I would stare at it with every strength my eyelids could muster, and I’d just fail to see it because my eyes would just be flooded with tears. “Starry Nights” would always be the embodiment of an impossible dream for me.

For someone who grew up poor, dreams do feel like a carnal sin. You learn very early on to lull it down and shove it deep under your skin. You learn to talk about everything else over time, even your deepest trauma. But you never talk about your “hopes and dreams”. Even today as I sit by the window in awe living one of my many dreams, it feels like an out-of-body experience. It must be a mistake, a glitch in the matrix, I’d wake up tomorrow and this would cease to exist, so what’s the point, this is all fleeting!

Last Friday, when I wrote this down, I was surrounded by boxes that needed unboxing, and I was already doomsday planning laying on my back on my mattress on the floor, head tilted backward and staring at an upside-down Empire State Building. I don’t know how long this is supposed to last, but this is life for now. And like every other time I know I’ll see this through okay. But tonight I feel like the six-year-old girl peeping into the Barbie store pining for dolls she knows she cannot have.

Running

Photo by Polina Chistyakova on Pexels.com

In the essence of my being lies a truth, fundamental and clear,
I’m a procrastinator, wired to sprint; they say it’s born out of fear.
Be it a hundred meters or two hundred feet,
Last night fights before exams, chasing deadlines on repeat.

Then how did I end up in this marathon, now running the eleventh lap,
Five years and four cities, I was following a map.
Convinced I was running toward something – a goal,
But it’s been a long time now; uncertain, I question my soul.

An unseen tether, a spectral noose, tightens around my nape,
I wash the glaze off my eyes; the earth beneath I scrape.
The track marks have long faded; I realize a spiral course I’ve tread,
Thundering encore from the last homestretch bleeds through; the finish line turns red.

Lunging for the fleeting goal, ethereal and sly,
The rope tightens relentlessly, and I run, there’s no time to comply.

Centrifugal force takes over and my legs give away,
My eyes are cloudy, unblinking, lost in an abyss of disarray.

Today, still running, haunted by memories, on the verge of decay,
The elusive question still echoes, what made me run away?

Thoughts on a plane #2

I’ve been traveling in India and am currently on a flight to Bangalore from Patna. I made the rookie mistake of leaving my Kindle & headphones in the overhead cabin with my bag. I could have retrieved them, but I decided not to.

Bangalore is my favorite city in the whole wide world, and I’m visiting it after two years. A lot has changed since. As much as I’m excited to meet my old pals, I’m also apprehensive about meeting the old me through their eyes. Will she be proud of me?

I’m at such a unique juncture in life right now, I want to take a step back and breathe. I recently graduated with an MBA and a Master’s in Business Analytics, and I’ll be joining one of the Fortune 5 firms as a Senior Manager.

What I’ve strived for all my life, and I think I have come close to achieving it career-wise. All of this seems too good to be true, but makes me wonder, what next? Am I finally in a position to stop worrying about my career for a bit? And if I do that, what else do I do? Yes, hobbies would be my safe haven again. I might be able to write more and draw more. I think I’ll learn piano and some dance form too, but what else?

Why is it never enough? Maybe my idea of success was flawed. Maybe milestones should never be about a career, a degree, or a salary slab but about yourself. It’s funny we never set goals to be happy at 30, content at 45, or fearless at 50. Or at least, I never did. I have always thought of happiness as a by-product of a great career, success, or a relationship. Did I get it all wrong? Is it supposed to be the other way around?

In an ideal world, either this or that would be true. However, in the world that we live in, I think happiness is also a goal and a by-product. To be my happiest self, I think my health, career, support system, and mental state must all align. And it’s a delicate balance. I read somewhere that an unhealthy person wants only one thing while a healthy person wants many, and it hit me hard. Anytime you start chasing a goal relentlessly at the cost of other goals, you shatter the balance. And then, when you achieve that goal and stand on the podium with your medallions and bouquets, you still feel empty.

As grateful as I am for where I am in my life right now and the people who make it worthwhile, today I set my next goal to be and remain happy. That means making time for my career, health, family and friends, hobbies, and just giving back and acknowledging every day. I think if I’m able to achieve that, my MBA might actually be worth its while.

P.S. – Found this in my archives from June 2022 and decided to post it. AND, I also checked off skydiving before 30 from my bucket list last September!