I’m moving to a new
city, a new life. I haven’t written here for so long.
I wonder if that is because I want to make every post I write mean something,
be well written or is it just a general inability to be creative, write
anything well? I don’t know, really. I knew I would change a lot in five years.
It is a long time when you’re all of 17 years old. Many things that I thought
would happen didn’t happen. I had fun, lots of it, met some friends I’ll have
for a lifetime, broadened my intellectual horizons, let go of what I thought
was my provincial world. I learned to fend for myself, felt blissfully happy, and
saw the absolute depths.
I wasn’t conventionally successful here; I wasn’t even
unconventionally successful here. There were so many obsessed and driven
people, who knew exactly what they wanted. I was looking for something, my
place in the world, and I didn’t find it here. I never loved the law, never
found the discipline to do things on time. I got addicted to mediocrity, and by
the end there was almost complete indifference. It’s too late to regret, and
honestly, I don’t. It happened and it is the past, so I don’t really think I
would have acted differently, in the place that I was. There are a few things I’m glad about. I’m
glad I kept reading. I’m happy that I saw failure, in many ways; it showed me I
can be resilient and I know I can be a strong person. I’m glad I got into
running, by the end. I enjoyed my internships; I loved exploring Delhi and Bombay.
I loved living in Bangalore,
such blissful weather. The quizzing, my passion for knowing inane things,
rewarded. KQA is absolutely brilliant, and I intend to keep doing that (quizzing)
for the rest of my life.
Delhi
is scary. It is full of assholes. Inhospitable, rude people. It is full of the kind
of worshipping of money and ostentatiousness I find abhorrent. Yet it is
Punjabi, and North Indian and familiar. It also has history, everywhere. I
intend to do more with my free time(of which I’ll have sadly little) here.
Explore, see every part of it. Nizamuddin, Old Delhi, Mehrauli. Maybe bohemian Hauz Khas (or
has it become commercial already?). My
life is open with possibilities though. 5 years ago when I came here, I saw the
many different things I could do, the many different kinds of person I could
become. That is the case today also. I can reinvent myself. I don’t really want
to. I can, however, use 5 years of experiencing life on my own to do some
things smarter.
I don’t want to whine, and spout self-indulgent
psychobabble. Which is what I’m doing! I’ll just promise myself one thing, I’ll
write, in Delhi.
For the blog, too. I am obsessed with many things. Indie music, Pakistan (and
partition), languages, immigrants(of all kinds), mixing of cultures, football,
running, Indian (and Pakistani) writing in English, Islam in India, the Indian
Army, Tehelka, Open, and the Caravan, Hinduism in Pakistan, Biharis in the West
Indies, the novels of Amitav Ghosh and a thousand other things. I want to write
about them. It is certainly more interesting than my quest to find myself. I am
a product, of a certain time, of certain cities, of a particular upbringing,
and I need to have the hubris to think that my thoughts, my opinion means
something. To a glorious future!
