Who really is successful?

I would have closed my eyes and answered this just a year back. I had seen my cousins living in the US. They had a house there, they were sending us glamorous pictures of them wearing boots standing next to their snow clad garden and their kids spoke to us on phone with an American accent but then I hadn’t met him that time.

He was older than his class mates because he dumped 3 years of his engineering. The Reason? This was not what he wanted to do. I was aghast! Coincidentally we came back to India and started our careers together. He was passionate about manufacturing and defense almost to the extent of eating, drinking and sleeping the subject and I was passionate about earning as much that I wouldn’t ever have to think about spending. Our debates followed - We fought about everything from Indians spitting on road to Indians cheating each other. He on the other hand chose to defend Indians. We fought again. I tried to make him see the money he can make abroad considering he was so good at what he was doing, he quashed my point of view by saying he wants to stay in his country and rather be respected for being an Indian than earn a fat pay cheque outside. I accused him of being too idealistic, even pointed out the world does not work his way. He told me he would prefer to work towards his dream than to regret throwing it away just for money.

Time flew. We were both working and earning a meager amount that barely took us through the month. During hard times, to my surprise I saw him throwing offers from big companies owing to current work commitments, rejecting his parent’s invitation to work abroad but I also saw him proving himself by becoming an indispensable part of projects he took and outshining his peers at work. I knew he was struggling because he would wear faded trousers to work as he didn’t earn enough to buy a new one or he would cook after coming back from work because he couldn’t afford to eat out everyday. And whenever I was close to giving up he sat right beside me, held me tight and made me believe that every one in this world starts small and humility is the best virtue one can ever cultivate. Over the time I spent with him, I have seen myself feeling from being aghast and angry to awed and proud of him.

I don’t know who is successful anymore. Probably my cousins are in worldly terms because they can afford what he can’t right now but what about an Indian who wants to start his own venture, contribute to the growth of the country and wants to make his country proud. What about someone who dares to dream and works as passionately to make it come true.

The other day we were sitting in a park. He asked me to buy a quick fix from a shop close by. Later I saw him quietly mending his broken belt with the glue because he didn’t own another one. Next day at work his boss promoted him as a team leader within 7 months of him joining. The answer of the question above is not difficult anymore. In fact now when I look back, it never was.

Farewell!

29th Jan, 2010
2:56 am


Trying to fold my one and a half year of life in UK has been anything but easy. Juggling between normal allocated duties of informing friends, spending half of the time on the phone trying to get information on luggage allowance, direct debit cancellation, running around shopping for family and finally trying to fit the fragments of memories of the good old days in the 46 Kg limit. Major challenge is to decide which part of the one and a half year deserved a place inside the suitcase and which part of it landed on the floor ready to be discarded.

How do I say no to the T-Shirt which I came wearing to the UK, beaming with self pride not knowing that another world existed, complete with its people waiting for me down here. Or should I say no to the shoes that I bought from the small street shop back home, thinking it would a major fashion breakthrough in the UK. What about the funny little soft toys that we won at the casino after hours of oohs! Aaahs! and begging for 20Ps to be put in the machine. We even gave them funny names! I think I am definitely gonna take the big pint glass that we bought from Alton towers after a rather scary and bumpy ride on ‘Rita: Queen of Speed’. Can I slip in the key chains that say ‘cute lil chatterbox’ and ‘lil miss sunshine’ that my friends gave as birthday presents? Do I take the first ‘hair straightener’ that I bought on a mid night trip to Tesco, soon after I was made aware of its existence? Do I carry my broken old mobile phone back cuz it has seen a frenzy of calls about getting to know each other, will you come out for a walk with me and texts on ‘what are you wearing’ and ‘how was your day’?

And where is the compartment for just memories? Moments that left no physical remembrance. What about the time when my friends wished me happy birthday in the middle of the street when the church gong stuck 12? Where do I keep those happy times of cooking and playing silly games together? Where is the place for the time when we played in the first snow like crazy? Can I also zip in some intoxicating moments where eyes held eyes for a bit too long and hand held hands more than intimately? What about the ‘not so good memories’ where tears, hurt and loneliness embraced my tiny room and hovered all over my bed? Do I put them on the floor or carry with me as a part of lessons learnt?

How do I fold my one and a half years of life in 46 kgs?