Between the two branches of a decision tree: Independence and Serenity
This is not going to be one of my abstract posts. Or even one on psychology or philosophy. So fret not. Following the true blogging style,I'm going to be talking about my life as such.
Whenever I tell someone I'm from Bangalore, the first and most common reaction I get is this: Wow, you're from here. That means you have the best of both worlds. You have your family around, and you also get the best infrastructure in terms of academics and career. How lucky! We guys leave everything behind for our education or job.
While I do not disagree with this, it isn't really that rosy a picture. Let me repaint that for you now. Recently, I had to make a tough choice: a good job and a great job. But the good job was 16 km away from home and the great one 36 km. A true Bangalorean will tell you this and vouch for it repeatedly and staunchly: Distance, especially here, is always measured in terms of time. 30km in certain parts of West or North Bangalore may be completely fine, and half that along the ORR is enough to drive you mad. Even considering this, there was no advantage for me. The 36km was along a very traffic-prone area, and I knew what I was signing up for. I chose the tougher option, the right one. Also, the impractical one.
Now, I find myself on the road for close to 5 hours a day, and the very same people tut in dismay at my plight and exclaim Just shift to someplace closer. This is not going to work out in the long run.
And that's the problem, you see. While people from elsewhere are alone and without family, they are also free. I, on the other hand, am chained to the state of things here. My family. My home.
'Chained' makes it sound as if I'm an unwilling prisoner. That isn't really the case. I am happy coming back home at the end of the day. What is the point of a house 5 minutes away from work if you have nothing to go home to? Again, this is the normal state of things for an immigrant. For me, on the other hand, the balance is skewed: I compare an empty dwelling that is nearby, and a warm hearth that is far. My heart is always inclined towards the latter, my head to the former. How on earth do I choose?
Again, people have an easy answer. Shift to a place, stay there for the weekdays, and travel home for the weekend.
This might work for some people, but I somehow don't believe it will for me. Eventually you get busy, things come up, and the frequency of your visits dwindle down to near zero. You grow detached from home, and it seems like a distant reality, one whose world you don't inhabit anymore. I speak from experience and not imagination: I have moved out once before, and trust me, I was at home for 12 days out of 365 in 2017. What, then, is the point of being a Bangalorean? If I don't get to be at home for a festival, for a normal rainy Saturday, for a lazy Sunday, for a quiet afternoon, for a peaceful night after a tiring day, what is the point of having a home here after all? I am as good as an outsider, because I end up being an occasional visitor to my own house anyway.
I also think of the sacrifices my parents have made along the way for me, and it seems so selfish to deny them of happiness just because I want to live comfortably. Because as undeserving as I am of their unconditional benevolence, they really do find happiness in having me around. It is only for a limited time that I have the luxury to be at home, and I find myself thinking, What's a couple of years in the long run? You have struggled for years now...why not just a little while longer?
But these are emotions, and on evenings where I open my eyes to find myself still stuck at the same place I was half an hour ago(Tin factory, this is all you!), I wholeheartedly curse myself: If you wanted family, you should have chosen the nearer job. If you wanted work, you should have just shifted and forgotten everything else. But no, you're greedy enough to want both. This is the price you pay for it.
Sigh! I don't really know. My head and heart are engaged in relentless war over this debate. And I, being the clueless idiot that I am, have decided to use the Ostrich algorithm on this one. Bury my head in the proverbial sand for a while, and see how it goes. I have chosen to travel, with no commitments of sticking to it. Maybe there will come a day when I snap and be like No More. That's the day I will shift. Maybe I will find the endurance to actually pull this off. Only time will tell.
In the meantime, I should figure out all the productive and semi-productive things I can do on my daily commute. That will probably be my next post. :)
P.S: If you relate to this post in any way, please tell me so. I will feel reaallly good to hear it. :)
Whenever I tell someone I'm from Bangalore, the first and most common reaction I get is this: Wow, you're from here. That means you have the best of both worlds. You have your family around, and you also get the best infrastructure in terms of academics and career. How lucky! We guys leave everything behind for our education or job.
While I do not disagree with this, it isn't really that rosy a picture. Let me repaint that for you now. Recently, I had to make a tough choice: a good job and a great job. But the good job was 16 km away from home and the great one 36 km. A true Bangalorean will tell you this and vouch for it repeatedly and staunchly: Distance, especially here, is always measured in terms of time. 30km in certain parts of West or North Bangalore may be completely fine, and half that along the ORR is enough to drive you mad. Even considering this, there was no advantage for me. The 36km was along a very traffic-prone area, and I knew what I was signing up for. I chose the tougher option, the right one. Also, the impractical one.
Now, I find myself on the road for close to 5 hours a day, and the very same people tut in dismay at my plight and exclaim Just shift to someplace closer. This is not going to work out in the long run.
And that's the problem, you see. While people from elsewhere are alone and without family, they are also free. I, on the other hand, am chained to the state of things here. My family. My home.
'Chained' makes it sound as if I'm an unwilling prisoner. That isn't really the case. I am happy coming back home at the end of the day. What is the point of a house 5 minutes away from work if you have nothing to go home to? Again, this is the normal state of things for an immigrant. For me, on the other hand, the balance is skewed: I compare an empty dwelling that is nearby, and a warm hearth that is far. My heart is always inclined towards the latter, my head to the former. How on earth do I choose?
Again, people have an easy answer. Shift to a place, stay there for the weekdays, and travel home for the weekend.
This might work for some people, but I somehow don't believe it will for me. Eventually you get busy, things come up, and the frequency of your visits dwindle down to near zero. You grow detached from home, and it seems like a distant reality, one whose world you don't inhabit anymore. I speak from experience and not imagination: I have moved out once before, and trust me, I was at home for 12 days out of 365 in 2017. What, then, is the point of being a Bangalorean? If I don't get to be at home for a festival, for a normal rainy Saturday, for a lazy Sunday, for a quiet afternoon, for a peaceful night after a tiring day, what is the point of having a home here after all? I am as good as an outsider, because I end up being an occasional visitor to my own house anyway.
I also think of the sacrifices my parents have made along the way for me, and it seems so selfish to deny them of happiness just because I want to live comfortably. Because as undeserving as I am of their unconditional benevolence, they really do find happiness in having me around. It is only for a limited time that I have the luxury to be at home, and I find myself thinking, What's a couple of years in the long run? You have struggled for years now...why not just a little while longer?
But these are emotions, and on evenings where I open my eyes to find myself still stuck at the same place I was half an hour ago(Tin factory, this is all you!), I wholeheartedly curse myself: If you wanted family, you should have chosen the nearer job. If you wanted work, you should have just shifted and forgotten everything else. But no, you're greedy enough to want both. This is the price you pay for it.
In the meantime, I should figure out all the productive and semi-productive things I can do on my daily commute. That will probably be my next post. :)
P.S: If you relate to this post in any way, please tell me so. I will feel reaallly good to hear it. :)
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