Page 159 - Musings 2020

15

Going Home

Ashutosh Bhatt 2017ABPS0957P and Anirudh Garg 2017A7PS0142P

Hi there. I'm Rahul. Pretty common name, huh? But I got a rather unusual tale to tell. I'm one
of the countless humans, who wage wars with their daily difficulties to emerge as stronger
human beings. Are we lesser than your average Ironman, Captain America or Thor? Or any
of those superheroes? No. I have a story to tell.

It was a cold frigid night. For the hundredth time, I wished for the comfort of my warm
blankets. The chilly winds perturbed me; and tensed, I wished for the warmth emanating from
my mother which could melt any barriers. I wished for my brother's indomitable spirit, which
could face any challenge. I worried about so many things. How will I manage to pass tonight?
Where will I get my food from? Would I have to be one of those countless beggars who
ravage for food from the dustbins? Eww. Will I be safe? You see, I had left my home. Or
more specifically, run away.

It all started with that fateful day. My father was a respectable oncologist with a roaring trade.
My mother was a house-wife. My older brother graduated from IIT with flying colors and my
sister was a successful doctor. Engineering and science ran in my family, it was like I was
born to be one of them and expected to follow in the footsteps of my illustrious family.
However, my passion lay in something else. Engineering and science were two things I
wanted nothing to do with. So from time immemorial, I was the black sheep of the family.
Who's the poor, unstable boy? Me. Who was the one to be pitied? Me. It pained my father to
see his youngest child pursuing an interest that he so obviously disliked and which he
believed would bring dishonor to the family. So much for "beta hamara aisa kaam karega."
That day, he gave me a sound piece of his mind. I had enough of this nonsense! I made it
clear to my father that it was my life, and I would do what I wanted to do with it! And if he
forced me to do something which I didn't want, I would leave the house, my father calmly
said, "Try."

The next morning, I left with enough money, some clothes and essential items with a note
explaining my disappearance. I was unloved, I declared; in my note, I told my mother not to
worry and explained to her, succinctly that I would only return when my father changed his
thoughts.
I was incisive about my leaving. With the furrow and energy of an angry young jawaan, I had
set off, determined to take on the world. But little did I know that life was not a bed of roses.
It was not forgiving and easy, but a cruel mistress.

For days, I survived on money and generally lived lavishly. But then Immediately started to
run out of it. I managed somehow on charity and sympathy, but that wasn't going to last long.
I had tried many times to send a letter home, pleading to take me back. But no, my pride was
greater than my sense.

One night, with trepidation, and growing homesickness, I wrote a letter and posted it. It said,
"I am sorry, and now I see how right you are, father. I have been through a lot. And now
seeing the outside world, I realize how wrong I am, and how right you are. I now see the love

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