A Girl Has No Name: World of Rat Races and Second Handers has been edited by Aashna Kanuga.
In this world, I think nothing is permanent. Do other people feel the same way I do, or am I a misfit? They say, that we are not going to live forever. “Life is as temporary as the things you ask for.” Why is it always like that? Is nothing in this world permanent, nothing at all?
How do I end this vicious circle pertaining to life?
Today, as days pass by, I realise my childhood was just a temporary phase. Once graduation was over, everyone told me I was done with the golden phase of my life. Now, I need to participate in “the race.” I have to go out there and compete so that I can earn, and take up all the responsibilities I am meant to pay heed to. “Participate, because what will the world think? Why did you learn so much if this is not what you want to do?” It did not matter, whether I wanted to or not, I was forced to face all these questions. However, I could not answer any. The questions just did not make sense to me.
Nevertheless, I did end up running that race to earn my livelihood. After all this time, I finally found that one thing in life that was permanent. And now, I could never stop running.
As I ran, I saw how every person runs without thinking or observing. There is never a choice, just an illusion of having one. I was shocked to see how people were willing to be manipulated because they held on to a fear; the one of failing and losing. We have witnessed technical person working in the bank, while someone who studied business fixing solar panels, probably a PhD holder applied for a clerical job.
Here, I saw neither innovation nor creation.
I cannot help but wonder, how does a person live here, in such a state?
The world is primarily about the race for survival because of the second handers; those who live on the inventions of creators. A second hander does not live, not once. They survive. They make through, somehow. And if this has got you wondering how do you, me or anyone, as a matter of fact, manage to stay this way, it is simple. By accepting the fact that the race has no end point.
Alas, I kept on running, failing to succeed. All the strength that I had gathered, had left me. It felt like my mind had nothing to absorb, losing my creativity with the clock. In spite of that, what scared me the most was I did not know how to inject life back into my soul. How do I tell my parents that I cannot fit into these categories? I want to participate in a race where I know I can excel. The kind of race where running even a million laps would not exhaust me.
At the same time, let me tell you, that in this world of second-handers, once you get in, there is no escape. It will consume you, dangerously, unless you accept their principles and live by them.
I mustered courage and asked my parents, that where will this race lead me if I succeed. Is there an end? To which, my dad replied there is none. This race ends only with the end of your life, and time. Therefore, the only thing that matters is how you performed. I tried to explain how I do not fit in here, and that I wanted to be a creator and lead, not a second-hander and merely follow.
All I wish is to have a self-made life, with experiences that matter. Not some half-heartedly lived life, defined by my performance in an unworthy race. My dad, however, did not agree.
Now, for me, permanent means two things. One being the race and the second being my father’s conspicuous disapproval.
Somehow, I scraped half way out of this vicious journey. No, I do not know when would I manage to give my creation a permanent identity. A creation, where the world is finally led by a group of individuals.
I am a little tired now, you tell me, how do I end this vicious circle pertaining to life?
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