My folks always were very ambitious about my ambitions. The pushing, boasting, normal parent like parents. I somehow still managed to live through all that and escape all all those aggrandizing virtues that such pressures ideally develop in kids. Lazy impractical ignorant, I was all of that. But yet an inherent part of the ghastly gruesome rat race. It takes quite a high degree of tolerance to be ignorant in spite of a prevelance of such curcumstances. So what is that I am trying to prove here? Well, see, another proof of eluding the issue completely. Rat-Race.
Ignorant as I might be, I still have come a long way since birth and even though I have to dwindle around several folds more, I can still give you a short insight into what we so joyfully call youth. You were born and your mum went gaga over your looks and all those neighbourhood ladies who cuckooed about your perfect chin and invisible dimples, the mole under the hair lock just below the brim of your forehead which in time has gotten densely occupied with hair locks all over and will now only be see-able when your hairline starts receding, and so on so forth. Then the kid around your place was born and the same neighbourhood ladies found his chin perfect-er, his dimples a little more visible, his mole little more promisingly visible. But your mum thought, the kid was just not smart enough. Did you know, that was where the rat race began??
First it was just you and him, the two little rats. But in time the numbers began to proliferate.
The class you studied in, the people in your colony, your acquaintances in the neighbourhood, the neighbourhood country, through blood relations, net relations and other emerging forms or relation, everyone was a rat. The perfect grade sheet the cheese and your folks aka parents, the ones who were animal testing you for your efficiency at cheese hunting and in turn measuring their own , for theirs was the experimental input – ‘the genetic configuration’ . Those whom you called friends were the more potent rats, for their parameters of cheese hunting were directly measured against yours. And you actually got tricked into believing that ‘friends in need are friends indeed’, did you?
The echelons in class, profession, workplace, all became an extensive exercise to quantify your cheese hunting capacity and books of the like of ‘who moved my cheese’ began to make money. (The book actually is not remotely related to rat race, but I am sure, most of you must have not even heard about the book, one of the previous ones written by Chetan Bhagat. Does that strike any chord??)
You raced, you scurried, you clawed, and you hurried.
You found, went around, in search of something, yet more sound
And grew up you, to foster the few,
You dreamt could do, what you failed to.
And so the race continues…
In form of your kids, the poor souls > the petty ones > then the little rats > to bigger ones > mighty ones >racing monstrous ones >… and the vicious cycle will go on.
Ps: Just incase you took my word for it, the book ‘who moved my cheese’ is an ingenious one, written by Spencer Johnson. For more about the book look log on to ‘http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Who_Moved_My_Cheese’