Growing up I was repeatedly told by people, who were far too reliable to be dismissed, that I am stubborn. To prove their point, an episode from my not very glorious past is often discussed:
It was peak summer and you were probably three or four years old; bawling like a crazy monkey because you wanted to eat mangoes, but there were none at home. One of your aunts had just got home after a very long and very hot day at work. She saw you crying and because you just wouldn’t agree to wait till the evening, she picked up her bags and went looking for mangoes which she came across after an hour.
I am stubborn, I admit it wholeheartedly. And probably you are too. If not stubborn, then perhaps greedy, insecure, jealous, angry all the time… You are one of those things just like me. But rather than trying to achieve the impossible of trying to be a perfect creation, why not channel it towards something beautiful?
I am stubborn, exactly the way people predicted when I was growing up. I am stubborn for joy. Stubborn to grasp it by the roots and plant it in my broken, imperfect life. You see, I am a fool; a fool who doesn’t believe that happiness in this broken world is an impossibility. So I am fighting against the tide, anyway.
So when one of my cousins called me up when I was on my way back home, my face broke into a huge grin. He is perhaps 10 years old and I call him ‘chidiya’ (bird). He has the most sweetest voice, one that makes you want to give him a hug every time he says ‘hello’. He called me up because he had read my recent blog, most specially the one that mentions the incident when I put red nail paint on my sister’s face.
“I was so curious as to why you did it. Why? Why did you do it?”
We spoke for about 10 minutes; he told me how he has 7 earphones and how he is going to ask his parents to buy something (just couldn’t understand what it was) if he scores more than 90 per cent marks. The I politely asked whether I could speak to his aunt; in reality, I was running out of topics to speak on with the very enthusiastic ‘chidiya’. Nevertheless, I was a very happy person after our conversation was over.
Grasping by roots and letting the joy harvest in my life. I don’t get to whine or feel sad if I don’t try to change things that I am most uncomfortable or unhappy with. Neither do you.