Page 18 - #letter to son

#SangamNiti DAYBREAK
I was lanky and rail-thin and a subject of much ridicule. Neither was
I good at sports, nor was I an academic front-bencher. Yet, when I
pursued a degree in Chartered Accountancy, I had a dogged sense of
optimism that remained unweakened despite a testing trial of eight
years. But when I sailed through, I was the first Chartered Accountant
of Bagrehi Village, my birthplace, in Chitrakoot District, and the toast
of our locality. I somehow felt I’d earned my liberation.

Like all my friends, I wanted to be successful. However, unlike my
friends, I didn’t know what success was. Was it money? Maybe. Was it a
big fancy house? Could be. Settling down with wife and family? Sure, if I
was lucky. Like everyone else, these were the goals I was taught to aspire
to. However, I was in search of a deeper meaning. I had a melancholic
sense that our time is short and I wanted to make the most of my time.
To make it purposeful. To make it creative. Indeed, I wanted the credits
list in my life’s balance sheet to be the longest.

Like most rural households, ours too was one that valued the essence
of economy. My earliest childhood memories are of my mother who
woke up at the crack of dawn and slept only when the last flicker of the
oil lamp had given up its struggle against the darkness of the night. My
father, who was bereaved in his teens, had weathered trickery and deceit
when he had started his business, which had drained all his savings.
Yet, he laboured to keep his family’s existential flame aglow, fighting the
darkness just like the little flame in our oil lamp. Struggling against the
odds, he never gave in. Growing up, I was a direct witness to scarcity.
Yet, it instilled in me a sense of resilience that few other experiences can.
It also bore into me the sense of society; the fact that a stick can be easily
broken, but a bundle will always remain indestructible.

Hardship at home and fellowship with peers that almost bordered on
derision chiefly because of my appearance fed into me self-sustenance and
self-reliance that have held together the foundations of my life. That foggy
morning in Delhi, as momentous as it was when my being questioned its
survival, I drew strength from my reserves that nudged me to keep going.
Just like a runner, who’s not actually running towards a goal, nor running
for a high, but is just running because he’s scared of stopping.

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