So I was travelling from Delhi to Mumbai via the IndiGo airlines. And as is the ritual, sure enough, the air hostess stood in front of me, doing the usual dance. It was clear from the way that she didn’t bother to stay in tandem with the recorded announcement that she didn’t Really think that the aircraft was going to crash. It would be too easy to call her dumb and assume that that’s the reason she joined this profession, no wait that would be judgemental… easy would be to say that she is an optimist. Everyone loves an optimist, don’t they? Well that would surely explain the number of friends I have.
The way this female refused to keep in sync with what the recorded voice was saying somehow Really bugged me. Now again it would be really easy to just call me a hyper- critical bitch, easy and a cliche.
For a little background, I worked at an MNC for 2 years right after my graduation. I live away from my parents, who live in a different country. Their biggest complain about me was that I failed to balance my work life with my personal life. Well, I would explain to them, that is because I enjoy being passionate about what I do, and the trying to get better at it constantly would add pressure because those around me just did not see the point in even “trying”. Now I am not saying that I was great at my job; in my view, I was fairly average. But I was passionate about it, alright I used to try to be and when I realised that I couldn’t anymore, I quit. My question is:
Imperfection: Is it a temporary situation or a permanent condition?
My parents, for their love for me, used to hate to see me work so hard as in their eyes, finances should not have been an issue for me at all. However, this was about more than just money, I am not saying that money did not have a substantial role to play. It did. But this was about the WAY that I lived my life.
The biggest sound of glass crashing against hard concrete reverberated in my ears the day that I realised that living passionately is not a norm. Growing up, I don’t know why, maybe it was the media or my own “optimism” but I was sure that one day, I was going to find that special something that I am meant to be doing, and rock that world completely. But then, and this news was broken to me by my own father, that you are just supposed to do the bare minimum.
So a little more background: I am not particularly a believer in the institution of marriage and the idea of having a family. Which means I have a long life ahead of me with a lot of me time. Which means that I am going to be living a long, alone, dispassionate, half-hearted life, forever.
All hell broke loose. I went into severe depression and it affected every relationship of mine, around me.
Slowly, as I could not come to terms with this reality, I had to quit my job and in the garb of preparing for an mba, take some time off.
So. Imperfection. Speaking on a grand, cosmic scale, there is scope for absolutely None. The room for imperfection keeps widening the closer we get to home. And by home, I mean ourselves. It is a little more at a global level, more at a national level, more so at a state level, so on and so forth. My strive to “get it right” is looked upon as being a type-A personality, crazy and at times, obsessive.
Let us say that the aircraft Does drown, and the passenger who tried hard to understand this lady’s instructions in row 30, but couldn’t because she was doing a shoddy job of it, ends up drowning and dying; Whom is it on? Is it on the man who was befooled by this woman’s lack of precision in giving directions into believing, as she most probably does, that the aircraft won’t Really drown or is it on him for not calling out to her and telling her that she was doing a shitty job of what she was doing?
On another note, we know and understand the existence of imperfection in our world. Human error, as we always like to term it and don’t fail to account for it. How far is it OK to provide for the public’s imperfections? Providing a brail menu for the blind in a restaurant would normally be considered as noble but, providing for sick mind’s perversion with child pornorgraphy, is intolerable. They are both, after all, diseases. One physical and the other mental.
But then again all this could be my erroneous rambling, but I know I can get away with it, in this dimension at least.