A few days back, a friend had forwarded an article on the difficult times faced by individuals in the twenties. More specifically, it was addressed to the issues faced by the individuals on the wrong side of the twenties, and slowly approaching the thirties, and was curiously called the 'quarter-life crisis'. Although I could not connect with the tone of the article wholeheartedly, (the author sounded too melodramatic and Hollywood-ish in presenting the problem and the circumstances), I could at least identify with the predicament he/she was trying to point out, for people in the twenties, or dare say I, single people in the wrong side of the twenties like me, and many others around me.
Being single, away from home, and living in a big city can be daunting at times. With the initial euphoria, after bagging a job and moving to a new city, dying out, the bubble starts to look a little less colourful by the day. As you try to adjust to the horrors of commuting, the absolutely ridiculous real-estate market, the ever-rising prices of essential items and food articles, the romanticism of living on your own starts to fade away and the grim reality sets in; and that horrific destroyer of many a sane mind, loneliness, starts rearing it's ugly head. The office colleagues start to seem not so nice and genuine after all, and you miss your college friends, and especially your childhood buddies, for they provided you with their unstinting support and unadulterated love and fierce loyalty, a little of which you could have done with it now. But you also know that it is absolutely ridiculous to ask of, from the current set of people around you. It is actually a sad thing, but you have to realise that everyone has crossed that stage which you are crossing just now, and have felt that breach of trust, that loss of faith which have stunted the spread of their concern for fellow people, that extent of a friendly arm to a stranger.
So here he is, the confused, life-lagged journeyman in the late twenties, scuppering for a better deal for his happiness from life, bargaining to the hilt, to scrape off that last bit of satisfaction from the plate life offers to him every now and then. The predicament reaches its peak, if he is stuck at the same job, without any significant change in quality of life, and it gets all the more frustrating if you see friends and acquaintances changing jobs, hopping over to juicier profile apparently at the snap of a finger. It is then that self-doubt creeps in, questioning your abilities, wondering whether oneself is actually that good, and is he actually at the right place, doing the right thing.
Being single doesn't help either, as you long for that companion beside you at times of crisis, when all you needed was a holding of the hand, a tight hug, or a whisper of faith. Yeah, yeah I know, marriage is always an option, but that gamble is too risky, even by the standards of Lehman Brothers. They just went financially bankrupt, and the Fed salvaged them, but when you are emotionally bankrupt, there is no Reserve Bank to resurrect you; the scar heals, but the mark remains forever. An Indian male is always in denial, protecting his masculinity, for that is the way we have been brought up, always taught that "men don't cry", so it's high probability that we shall never say "I'm dependent on you" or "I need you". Mr SRK came in too late to change our psyche, our way of thinking, and we still think twice before wearing our heart on our sleeves, lest they get dirty with the pollution of 'lack-of-love' around.
Therefore the confusion arises, presented by life, whether to choose between contentment and happiness. Contentment essentially implies compromising with your present situation and burying your head inside the sand of delusion like an ostrich, refusing to see the better picture. We often choose contentment over happiness, because that is the safer option, doesn't involve risks not considered worth taking, and most importantly, doesn't drag you out of your comfort zone. But in this ever-shrinking life span, where just a press of a mobile phone's button destroys numerous lives forever and shatters uncountable dreams before you can even say 'BOOM', I guess putting down that resignation paper pending for a long time, opening up that childhood notebook where your most brilliant skill still preserves itself to provide you with enough inspiration, and mustering that courage to say 'I Love You', looking into the eyes of the person who makes you go weak in your knees every time (you know it's not arthritis at this young age, despite your lack of physical activities), makes greater sense; and is a risk worth taking. You can never decide how it begins, but you can always influence how it ends.
Being single, away from home, and living in a big city can be daunting at times. With the initial euphoria, after bagging a job and moving to a new city, dying out, the bubble starts to look a little less colourful by the day. As you try to adjust to the horrors of commuting, the absolutely ridiculous real-estate market, the ever-rising prices of essential items and food articles, the romanticism of living on your own starts to fade away and the grim reality sets in; and that horrific destroyer of many a sane mind, loneliness, starts rearing it's ugly head. The office colleagues start to seem not so nice and genuine after all, and you miss your college friends, and especially your childhood buddies, for they provided you with their unstinting support and unadulterated love and fierce loyalty, a little of which you could have done with it now. But you also know that it is absolutely ridiculous to ask of, from the current set of people around you. It is actually a sad thing, but you have to realise that everyone has crossed that stage which you are crossing just now, and have felt that breach of trust, that loss of faith which have stunted the spread of their concern for fellow people, that extent of a friendly arm to a stranger.
So here he is, the confused, life-lagged journeyman in the late twenties, scuppering for a better deal for his happiness from life, bargaining to the hilt, to scrape off that last bit of satisfaction from the plate life offers to him every now and then. The predicament reaches its peak, if he is stuck at the same job, without any significant change in quality of life, and it gets all the more frustrating if you see friends and acquaintances changing jobs, hopping over to juicier profile apparently at the snap of a finger. It is then that self-doubt creeps in, questioning your abilities, wondering whether oneself is actually that good, and is he actually at the right place, doing the right thing.
Being single doesn't help either, as you long for that companion beside you at times of crisis, when all you needed was a holding of the hand, a tight hug, or a whisper of faith. Yeah, yeah I know, marriage is always an option, but that gamble is too risky, even by the standards of Lehman Brothers. They just went financially bankrupt, and the Fed salvaged them, but when you are emotionally bankrupt, there is no Reserve Bank to resurrect you; the scar heals, but the mark remains forever. An Indian male is always in denial, protecting his masculinity, for that is the way we have been brought up, always taught that "men don't cry", so it's high probability that we shall never say "I'm dependent on you" or "I need you". Mr SRK came in too late to change our psyche, our way of thinking, and we still think twice before wearing our heart on our sleeves, lest they get dirty with the pollution of 'lack-of-love' around.
Therefore the confusion arises, presented by life, whether to choose between contentment and happiness. Contentment essentially implies compromising with your present situation and burying your head inside the sand of delusion like an ostrich, refusing to see the better picture. We often choose contentment over happiness, because that is the safer option, doesn't involve risks not considered worth taking, and most importantly, doesn't drag you out of your comfort zone. But in this ever-shrinking life span, where just a press of a mobile phone's button destroys numerous lives forever and shatters uncountable dreams before you can even say 'BOOM', I guess putting down that resignation paper pending for a long time, opening up that childhood notebook where your most brilliant skill still preserves itself to provide you with enough inspiration, and mustering that courage to say 'I Love You', looking into the eyes of the person who makes you go weak in your knees every time (you know it's not arthritis at this young age, despite your lack of physical activities), makes greater sense; and is a risk worth taking. You can never decide how it begins, but you can always influence how it ends.
