Twenty-two and jobless – Dreams for yesterday

It was a rather small apartment in Greater Noida. He woke up to the hoots and whistles of Delhi traffic. It was not the life that he had often dreamt of living. No fancy cars, no fancy life. Reality had been considerably harsher than he had ever anticipated. The belief that reality wove itself in circles around him no longer held. It wasn’t easy for him, to accept that he was wrong. He had pretty much given up on dreams for a better life. Young as he was, he had seen more than most men. Ignorance was the easier path, but he didn’t have a choice.

Twenty-two and jobless wasn’t the best ticket to a better life. Neither were drugs. It was still morning. The room was a mess, but that wasn’t news. As was his routine, he reached for the pouch while still on the bed. Out came some cheap marijuana, RAW papers, and a lighter.

He liked to consider himself an artist of a higher mark. One which, according to him, most people could not even perceive. With all the precision of a true artist, he worked his magic with the rolling paper and green and came up with the perfect joint. More than just a few minutes were spent in admiration of his handiwork. A few more minutes, and the room was dancing with thick smoke.

Blink.

The walls impeding the world of dreams started breaking apart. Thoughts about when life was green, began flowing back. The reason for human existence was probed into, more often than once.

Blink.

He pulled out his phone. A few taps on the onyx screen induced the tiny muscles in his body to move with the rhythm of the music. It felt like his whole being was controlled by the notes coming from everywhere. He is constantly amazed by how good the music sounds.

Blink.

The probe turned inward now. It was time for self-assessment. Well, there was nothing to assess. His whole life was a mess, or so he thought. The only consoling thought was that he had never yet contemplated suicide. It was not because there was anyone holding him back. It was because he believed that great harvests came from arid sources, pleasure from restraint, he knew the equations that most people didn’t know: Things led to their opposites.

He knew that all those people who have truly attained success have once been at a point through which most people would not have survived. It’s not like he had any dreams left at that point. He subconsciously detested the idea of giving up.

Blink.

Life used to be so much easier. He had often wondered where it all turned downhill. A vivid memory drifted to him. The sun was shining brightly. The gentle breeze brought with it, a rejuvenating feeling. He was overlooking a playground. He could see plenty of boys and girls playing. He was usually not included in their games, and besides, he preferred his own company. However this fine day, the 11-year-old decided that he wanted in. An hour of running after the ball. He never touched it. He was sweating. While climbing the stairs back to class, he came across a couple of girls, who whispered to each other “Ewww… yuck”. He had died inside, that day.

No. He was mistaken. Life was never easy for him. He had to learn to fake smiles. He saw that the world was a bitter place. He learned to adapt. He learned to manipulate.

Blink.

He was wearing a suit. Briefcase full of dollar bills. The 20-year-old entrepreneur was on his way home after selling his company for $1.2Million. From New York City to Delhi NCR. Right outside his current apartment, he was tackled from behind. Morning found his suit torn, and briefcase, gone.

Yes, that was where it turned downhill. He was surprised that it took him so long to reach there. The memory had been harder to find, with each passing day. It was some good Kush that he had. He sat up to roll the next joint.


Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The Broken Monk is a designer undergoing meditation in Mumbai, India. He is rumoured to be capable of sleeping only once every two nights.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *