Sometimes the urge to chuck it all and run away becomes so overpowering. Getting rid of all the trappings of the materiallistic world and chasing your dream. People talking about you in hushed tones with barely concealed admiration. Your views on any topic under the sun being taken as gospel. Your guts being being compared to Rocky Balboa’s.
Wish I had the guts. Wish people will just stop saying "What the hell are you doing with your life?". Wish I knew what else am I supposed to do. Wish I could stop my thoughts from withering away. Wish I could remember my dreams once I woke up.
While the Great Indian Middle Class around you is fullfilling its Great Indian Dream in this Great Indian Century, it’s a little dumb to admit that you don’t have a dream. Dreams which can be taken seriously, that is. Like, do you expect people to pay for reading what you are reading? Or better, giving you a job of watching nondescript cricket matches between West Indies and Zimbabwe and commenting on the tactical fallacy of using Correy Colleymore as a strike bowler?
Am I getting confused between dreams and business models? Well, blame it on the dot com bust. Those were the times when putting up scanned photos of various idols on your website and expecting NRIs to do e-darshan constituted a great business plan.
Sigh ! Fat chance people will throw money by the bucketfulls at such brilliant ideas anymore.
Where does all this leave me? Why, exactly where you found me, sitting on the desk, trying the pretend that I have a dream after all.
A dream that someone will actually understand this drivel and offer me a joint.
Whatever comes to mind
1 comment:
One more of your Bong hang-ups is that things in the creative domain are more fulfilling...
Think about it, how will you feel as a cricket commentator when you see Mandira Bedi getting paid 15 times more than yourself!
Get a grip... earn those Dutch guys a lot of money... they will reward you enough... if that doesn't take care of your angst, nothing will!
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