I went through a phase, back when I was young and naïve, when I thought “Something great.” was an acceptable reply to the question “What are you going to do when you grow up?”.
I thought it was radical. A reply that would put the asker ‘s intelligence to shame.
When I said it, I often imagined myself, mucking about in outer space in one of those sexy spacesuits, casually flirting with a handsome co-astronaut.
We’d stargaze together, among other things.
I imagined myself building glass structures in the middle of the Sahara desert while drinking Tuareg tea.
I imagined a stunning house in the English countryside– mine. It would be filled with bright, beautiful paintings, inspired by my Indian upbringing, and people would throng to it to buy them, reflect on the East India Company, eat yummy chicken tikka(the vegetarian equivalent of it) and hear me sing trippy “hindoo” songs.
I imagined a glossy book with a black and white picture of myself (just a hint of sheer gloss on my lips), staring back intelligently at the admiring/inquisitive/skeptical reader.
I imagined winning the “Best Playback Singer(Female)” award and thanking Rahman “Anna” for being my mentor and guide; discovering pots of gold in Egypt, sweeping the Chennai roads myself, and changing the country, ridding it of corruption, pretense and sloth.
I imagined traveling around the world with no money, no security, no goals (in the process, making James Anderson fall hopelessly in love with me) and then writing about it all.
Now that I am twenty eight and frankly, don’t have much time to accomplish all of this, I thought I should lay bare my dreams. Probably a bit of well-wishing is all it would take to make them come true. Probably. :D
You, dear reader, don’t have too much time either. Move fast.
I wish you pace and something great.