I hate being responsible.

Ask my parents and they’ll tell you that I am yet to achieve that virtue. Ask my friends and they’ll tell you that I am responsible, for all the wrong things. Ask my boss and he’ll judge me with a scanner called Deadlines.

Since childhood I have been taught to be cautious. That’s the first thing you learn especially if you have a Doctor father.
Be cautious or you’ll get hurt
Be cautious or you’ll lose
Be cautious or you’ll fail

I did try to be cautious. Yet, I got hurt, more than just physically. I lost, more than just games. I failed, not just in exams. And then they told me that its destiny. I was destined to lose, or fail or get hurt. So how does being cautious help?

There were times when I tasted success. And then I left an impression. My parents were impressed when I topped my class. My girlfriend was impressed when she saw me dancing. My friends were impressed when I gulped six tequila shots. My boss was impressed when I handled a campaign single-handedly. My neighbourhood kid was impressed when I helped him with Maths. But, when was the last time I impressed myself. Hard to remember. Never had the time to think. I was busy trying to impress others. But now, I don’t care. I don’t desire a heaven. It’s not real. One has to die to achieve it. I know I’ll die someday, but before that I’ll live, for myself.

I want to visit the space. I want to dive into the deepest oceans. I want to climb K2, the virgin peak. I want to stay in a place where no one knows me. Strangers don’t scare me. It’s the people I know I find hard to deal with. I want to sing the way I want to. I want to dance, but not to impress anyone. I want to write without caring about the sentiments I evoke, if any. I don’t want to impress anyone anymore.

I am tired of people telling me what to do. I am tired of being dependent on other people to make a successful plan. I am tired of living as per people’s expectations. I don’t envy celebrities or more successful counterparts. I envy kids. I envy them each time they dive into a mud-pool. I envy them when they say whatever they want, to whoever they want. I envy them each time they express their dream of being an astronaut or a rocket scientist or a scuba-diver or even Superman. Our self-claimed matured mind would say that that’s not possible. Their parents wink at each other saying they’ll grow up. To be what? Something that circumstances have taught them to be?

I don’t even remember what I wanted to be when I was in kindergarten. I know I wanted to be Amitabh Bachan of Agneepath, Salman Khan of Karan Arjun, Pierce Brosnan of James Bond, Raj of Kaho Na Pyaar Hai. But I don’t remember what I wanted to be, before any film or person influenced me.

My range of idols varies from Evel Knievel to Sachin Tendulkar, from Che Guevara to Michael Jackson. But I don’t want to be them.

Everyday I log onto Facebook and read a plethora of status messages and posts where people claim to write honestly. Are they? Then why care for comments, why justify yourself? I don’t want to be honest in a politically correct way.

This revelation didn’t happen today. Yet all this while, I chose to deceive myself. Because, as a great man said, “The world doesn’t run on petrol, it runs on PR”. I don’t want to do something just to get an experience. Experience is what you get, when you don’t get what you want to.

I love telling people that I lead a happening life because I visit the discotheques invariably with a few hot women. Or because I regularly go out for trips. That’s not what I would call a happening life.

My life would be happening when I go into unknown vicinity when I don’t know what to expect, when I am not prepared to face a challenge. Then, if I conquer the challenge, I’ll know I have made it to the next level. Fulfilling my death-wish is how I want to live.

I started this blog with the urge to write honestly. Yet, when people started judging me in the most appalling way, I started being politically correct. Although I have been honest in all my posts, yet the thought of pleasing people was imbibed always. Today I denounce that thought. Today I’ll turn deaf and blind to all critics.

Somehow the whole thing of being practical has overshadowed every daring step I wished to take. Even now, a part of me tells me to act in a certain way inside office or with friends.

Today, I want to give my friends and my colleagues an opportunity, to know the real me. But before that I need to know that myself. I wish for that day when I will stare at the mirror, raise a toast and say “Good job Joy”.