FOR A 20-SOMETHING YEAR OLD

 




Before you begin reading this, are you a 20-something?

You know what? It’s fine. Read it anyway. And if it resounds with you, please send it to your other 20-something friends, not because I need the exposure, which I totally do by the way, but because they need to hear this. And they need to hear this from a 3rd party that does not sound patronising.

 

Babe. Darling, Meri jaan. My dude. Whoever you are. It’s happening to all of us. It doesn’t matter if you’ve graduated from one of the top colleges in the country or if you’re a product of a shitty college in the city. Every one of us is having a crisis max ultra pro. Sadly, this too comes with regular upgrades of shittiness added by bosses, Mondays, co-workers, parents, family as a whole and in general assholes scattered around the city waiting to fuck your day up. Social media is painting you just a bare-bones picture of what people around you are doing and sometimes, you can't help but compare yourself to that level of achievement and have an internal conflict, where you’re berating yourself for not being there. At that level. You keep thinking that you’re doing less, that you’re not worthy of the job that you have, that you’re not a great friend because you don’t have the ‘bandwidth’ to keep up with your other friends. And the things you keep putting off on the weekdays keep piling up for the weekend and on the blessed weekend, you want to do nothing but curl up under the blanket and never see the world again until Monday morning.

 

I’m the same. And so are the rest of the people that I know.

 

I spent this last week staying up most nights listening to one friend after the other, about how these awesome, talented, brilliant, hardworking individuals feel like they don’t deserve rest. Don’t deserve a few minutes to themselves. About how, despite working their ass off at their respective jobs, don’t deserve credit or praise. And it’s heartbreaking because I look at them and I see these insanely talented people that I love, that I respect, that I adore and maybe sometimes even envy about how they have their shit together while dealing with the world head-on, whereas I, hide under this mask of a know-it-all so that I can finesse my way through life.

 

I made risotto today. To be specific, I made lamb risotto. If we break down risotto to Indian terms, it’s keema chawal stew. But you see, it’s all about the presentation. Keema chawal stew is something you have at your dining table, not fancy, not worthy of any special mention, comfort food, it’s just there. But when you call it risotto and make a social media post about it and plate it well with garish and bread on the side, it becomes cool. It’s elevated. Its status is automatically revoked. It becomes Risotto. It becomes this great Italian dish that some people don’t know how to pronounce, and you can, with a little bit of smugness, teach them how to say it. And bask in the validation of making something continental. Something exotic even.


That’s what everyone is doing.

 

This performative life that we’re all putting out for the world to see is great. I mean it takes dedication to create anything, but my Instagram risotto is still my keema chawal stew and that is the difference I want you to see. You might feel like you’re mediocre or mundane or nothing magical, but you are risotto. And not just any risotto. You’re the one that is approved by Gordon Ramsey himself as he sends it out of the service door. You might feel keema chawal stew today and that’s valid. But I’m here to remind you that your place is right up there on the menu amongst the Michelin stars. So don’t worry. We’re all stressed. And they tell me it doesn’t really go away anytime soon but the great thing is we’re all together in this. And on the days you feel like plain rajma chawal or simple pappu annam, I’ll be here to tell you that you are kidney bean reduction plated on seasoned rice with salad on the side or delicious lentil soup paired with buttered rice and fried rice paper.

 

And the last time I checked, Atlas hasn’t resigned yet, so I don’t see why you feel the need to carry the world on your shoulders. Even if you don’t give two fucks about who is keeping the goddamned planet spinning on its axis, it’s still going to do that. Take a break. Be kind to yourself. And most importantly, keep kicking butt. I am so so proud of you.

 




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

WHAT DOES JUNE SMELL LIKE TO YOU?

I’m second best in a house that has only one child