I will..Teach for India

She was lost, confused, frustrated, irritated, everything negative that can possibly effect an individual was effecting her. She had spent 3 precious years and graduated, making everyone around her happy. But here she was, she had completed 9 months of her work and there was nothing she had learnt, nothing that had made her happy. She would eat blankly, meet friends and yap about work, and sleep praying somehow she finds a valid reason not to go to office the next day. This frustration would only result in more frustration and nothing else. Happens with most of us, right? So many people end up doing something they would never want to do, all their life.

She always wanted to teach. In-fact her long term plan was taking up part time teaching after earning substantially experience. Suddenly one of her friends, who knew about her love for teaching, asked her to apply for Teach for India fellowship, one day before the deadline. She didn’t think twice and here she is, writing this down, as she is still digesting the fact that she cracked the long process of the selection.

My mom is a teacher. I have heard her complain about Indian Education System. I had a client, who is a Developmental Pediatrician, Dr. Anjana Thadhani, who also owns an NGO, and is a child rights activist too. Several times, in meetings, I have heard her talk about RTE and how it has not done any good to the education system. I somehow connect with the TFI vision and mission, and I think everyone will, once they know the condition and understand the value of education. But thinking, talking, discussing, understanding, and complaining are definitely not the ways we can do anything and I decided to take up this fellowship.

My parents are really cool. They never forced me to take up engineering or get married at the age of 21. They trusted me, and kept me away from home since I was as young as 15. Keeping your daughter away from home for 6 long years isn't’t easy. They did not question me about TFI, until I sat with them to sign my commitment letter. All that they asked me was a simple question, “Are you sure?” They did not repeat the question after my firm “Yes”. But somehow I sense they are not as happy, as overwhelmed, as excited as I am. Maybe with time, they will accept it wholeheartedly.

My question is quite simple. We talk about positivity. Everyone talks about positivity. When we do something good for the people who deserve it, when we give them happiness with whatever we can, shouldn’t we expect that the outcome will be fabulous? Shouldn't we think that we will only reflect positivity? Service to man is service to God, they say, so why do we worry when we give up on good jobs, good opportunities (good here means money and experience) and invest our 2 years in doing something good to others? God is there, right? We believe in the power that we haven’t seen, but we do not believe in ourselves, our power to change something, very little in the society we crib about day in and day out. Musicians, Artists, Actors, each one of them entertain you, make you laugh, cry, feel, right? When you come home frustrated after work, that music makes me calm down, doesn't it? Then why are all these careers not encouraged as much as other careers are.

People will come, ask me and my family 100 questions, what? Why? But she studied advertising no? I’m sure she must have not got a good job. Should it matter to me? I will be walking in the classroom each morning, smiling, enthusiastic, in the expectation that we (me and my students) will learn together the lessons of life. I will sleep in the nights planning how my next day will be. I will happily plan sometime out with family and friends, probably counselling them about their jobs and discussing how to bring change. I’m happy, because there is no leadership like being a teacher, and there no noble profession than being a provider of knowledge and learning.

Go on, O traveler!

How does it feel to be different? Having a different set of ideas, and standing by those ideas always? How does it feel to be considered as an outcast? Because you don’t know what you want to become in life?

He woke up asking such questions to himself each day. He likes to spend hours in his bathroom, with the tap on, listening to the drops hitting the water in the bucket. He is lost in his own thoughts most of the times, and fears that his thoughts will kill him someday. He loves being around people and discussing, but he finds peace in being alone in the company of some music or his thoughts alone. He wants to give up on everything and hit the road, with or without music, because what he believes is that world is music. There is constantly music around us, we fail to acknowledge it, probably because man has stopped imagining all the beautiful things, and has lost the ability to perceive things as they are, without judging them.

He says, Go on, O traveler. Life is a car and time its wheels. He wants to drive his car, but people often pull and push, hit and run, turn it around and kick it hard. No, that does not affect him, he is still on the driver’s seat. He loves colors, but somehow black and white appeals to him more than anything else. He wants to go back in time, and experience the nature at its best. Maybe be a nomad for a while. He believes that thoughts, thoughts alone are the best friend of man. There is high that the air gives us. He does not blame the world. He feels sad for the people, because most of them are in a bad trip and they don’t know how to enjoy that bad trip.

He has learned the art of enjoying the bad trip and converting it into a good one when he feels like. He hasn't perfected it, but his thoughts often give him confidence and hope. He likes being around his thoughts, he talks to his thoughts, argues, discuss and they together come up with a conclusion. He is just like everyone, with a different set of ideas and thoughts, and that makes him what he is. He falls in love, eats, dances, talks, meets people but everything with a different perspective in his mind. It’s his soul that talks, he chooses not to use his brains when it is not needed. He loves himself, and so he loves his life, he loves everything that God has created, because he believes everything is out there because it was meant to be there.

And that’s why, when he looks around, he says, ‘Go on. O traveler’. 

Holding on to the strings

She couldn't express her feelings in words. But that wasn't the problem, the problem was that she tried expressing, and she failed every time. He would judge her words, and made conclusions based on them. She loved words, she loved people, and she loved life. He loved thoughts, he loved landscapes, and he loved

imagination. 

They were two different people, deeply in love with each other. But often when you fall in love, you just fall in love. There is no reason. After falling in love with him, she felt that people fall in love with each other’s differences, or was it only her. Oh, he loves adventure, how interesting, I have never had the opportunity to do something adventurous, and I might like it too. Oh she is so bubbly, I’m not like that, I love her eyes, and they twinkle all the time. She would always worry about all the things around her, and he just lived because life is to be lived, with no aim or reason.

She would dance to feel her body move, he would dance because the music would make him groove. They were different people but they were in love with each other’s differences. But love always becomes a little complicated, because with time she couldn't help asking questions: What is that thing which he loves about me? Why is he so careless? He started to compare his love to hi imagination, to the world he had created in his mind. Why is the love so entangling? Why isn't' it like a free bird?

She would get upset, and he would get irritated. She would complain, and he would shout. She would anyway want to forget it, but he would hold on to it. She would stop talking, and he would stop to imagine. The differences they loved, were falling apart. She would no more write, and he would no more play music and take her to his world. She would no more try and express and he would no more tell her stories. She would no more look into his eyes, and he would no more make love to her.

But they were in love, they couldn't leave. He was still there, and she was still here. He still cared, and she would still worry. He would still build stories, and she would still write. But they were scared to communicate. The strings were very weak, they could break any moment. Both of them were holding on to them, they never knew they will break anyway.