Randomness

So, is there a point to this post? Just to discuss how much i love random.

Routine bores me. To death. Although, the strangest part is, when i find something new, I want to set a routine to it. Getting a pedicure - once every week? every 2 weeks? as soon as I set the routine, i never stick to it. Coz its become too routine..

I cant go to the office at the same time everyday. I cant eat only one kind of vegetable during meals. I get bored of the same thing happening for more than 5 mins. I keep craving random all the time. I want a random job, random work timings. Go to work, dont go, who cares? If only the world followed my impulses. Going off to a cruise to Lakshadweep instead of reporting to work one day. Sit and wash clothes instead of that long awaited movie on another day. Learn guitar instead of going to dance class the third day.

The idea of a rotating job never ceases to excite me. Just imagine if we could all rotate jobs. One day be a waiter, the other day an accountant, the third day a model! How cool would that be? But then would that become a routine too? Will I crave for a set job?

How about if nature decides to play random with me? Takes away my family, burns down my house? Will I love random so much then? Its a dangerous game, this playing with random and craving it. I think everythign in this lifetime is pseudo random. You think you are being random by jumping careers from a software professional to an event manager?? Gloat all you want, but routine is gonna catch up on you pretty quick.

So in this eternal fight between routine v/s random, who do you think should win?

Home

Home.

There are so many thoughts about this one word running through my head that I am unable to figure out how to put them all down without making a mess of it.

Home. This word means different things to different people. Is there something called a home? Actually its just a place. A home is only someone's belonging. A place becomes a home when someone inhabits it. So, what all makes up a home? For some people, its the presence of their family that makes a place feel like home. For others, its the place that they grew up in. Memories of childhood, favorite hangout places... In the evening, when we see birds flying, why do we say they are heading towards "home"?

What about people who've grown up away from their motherland. Where their language is spoken, where their relatives are living... What land do they call their home? I have grown up in Dubai. I used to visit Pune during vacations. I never really connected to Pune those years but I didnt connect with Dubai either. I was missing something. I couldnt speak my language with people outside my small family, I didnt have cousins to play with.. I had a huge identity crisis. Then I shifted base to Pune for engineering. I was frequently asked the same question over and over again. "Which do you like better? Pune or Dubai?" In the beginning I had no answer. But slowly I developed a bond with Pune.

In Dubai, even though I went to an Indian school, I could not relate to a single one of my classmates. By chance if I found a Maharastrian friend, I would cling on to her with dear life. So I guess what did it for me was language. Relatives were those uncle aunties with whom I could be myself. I had grandparents here who would welcome and feed me any time of the day. I had found my home. At least I had found myself. But I was still to find my home. That corner in the world which I could proudly say was mine and mine alone. Where I could spend hours musing, wondering, planning my future...

When we finally bought our own house in Dahanukar colony, I had to share a room with my brother. But I made use of that 1 month he wasn't here to claim space. Put my own wallpaper on the computer, kabza karofied one shelf of the books cupboard to keep my salwar kameez... Totally forgot my absolutely useless pink curtains. Trying so desperately to make my room my home.

So now, till a few days back, I used to say "Pune of course, I hate Dubai!". With a lot of pride in my voice. I've come back to Dubai my vacation. And it doesn't feel so bad. I am still proud of the excellent infrastructure, the awe inspiring architecture.. This couldn't be my home. But it wasn't hell either. My school is here. That is a fact which does not make me like this place any more than I used to. But there are other small hidden things in this place.. Which I can never forget.. The creek, the beach, the cats... Long walks with my parents, garbage disposal bins, greeting Arabs... This country has housed me. It has given me a metropolitan outlook. I don't discriminate based on caste or state.. I think that's pretty darned good for a place.. I don't hate Dubai anymore. I have made my peace with it..

The only thing missing is my family.

Cant wait for the day my Dad comes back to Pune and finally admits... That this is where his home is..

Leap of faith

I am so confused right now.. For a long time, I have been doing what "I'm supposed" to be doing rather than what I feel like. Working in this job, applying for MS. I feel like just grabbing a few crayons and running amok with them inside my house, coloring the whole house like a retard.. My life is too restricted.. I just feel like leaving all this and running away. Worst part is, I don't know what I want to run to. Am I hating this job because I hate what I'm doing? Or is it that it takes up too much time? If its the latter, I don't think I'll be happy in any job. But what if I'm doing what I like doing? Then I might not feel bad spending time on my job. The problem is, I don't know what I want. There are people laughing at me for not following my heart, ridiculing me because I'm doing this to myself.. I don't know what's right anymore. 

When I choose what I want, what if I get bored with it? What if there is no money in it? Lots of traveling? Hours that stop me from having any kind of social life? Will I look back at this job and feel like coming back? I just don't know what I want from my life. Do I want to exercise my creativity? Do I want fame? What am I willing to lose for it? Since when did life become so hard? Am I being too idealistic? Should I just bury all this and stick to my job and go for my MS? But I am not happy. I don't know the reason for my unhappiness. This is how I've worked all my life. If I'm unhappy, I find the reason. That's the half the battle won. And then I do everything I can to get rid of it. People, clothes, books... whatever it is, no matter how much the sentimental value. Why cant I find a solution to this? I am ready to leap. I just don't know how far and into what.