A spoonful of 100% real

The best thing that happen to me in life, are almost dream-like and unreal, like animated films with lavender-cloudy visual effects that I save in my mind and play again and again. Most of my childhood was like that. But the worst things that happen to me are called harsh reality, so thorny and itchy and painfully real that I avoid thinking about them and dwell in the dream world. I never associated "real" with anything nice.

So when the contest in IndiVine asked for an experience I had growing up, that is one hundred percent real, I was one hundred percent confused. Does real mean good or bad?? And where do I find an incident that is both good-experience and real??

And I found one.

It was the time my life was spun 180 degree, upside down. When I got admission into the MCJ course in the University of Mysore, 200km away from home. (It’s not that far… I know…. But it is a big deal for me okay….I had never stayed away from home before!)

Until that day my only worry was what I would do if I did not get admission. Out of fear I studied hard for the entrance exam, never once worrying about what would happen after I joined this course. And now, suddenly, as I paid the fee for the first semester and tucked the receipt safely in my wallet, the realization hit me. This was going to be the first time ever that I would be staying outside home, out of the comfort of my room, and the freedom of my kitchen, away from Mom and Dad!

That was not the worst part. The worst was when my parents came with me to Mysore to get me settled in my room the day I shifted. When they had to help me unpack and head back home, without me jabbering in the back seat. The hardest was when I had to go back to that dingy little room and fall asleep knowing that Mom would not walk in to say good night, with Dad already snoring in the background. That next morning nobody is going to pester me to fold my sheets or hang the wet towels out to day, or trick me into eating Upma early in the morning. (It was delicious, I never noticed it until then)

As I watched our little white Alto disappear from my sight I realized how much I was going to miss hearing that annoying reverse gear tune every morning, so also the blaring classic music from the stereo that gave me headaches. Now I could go back into my room and listen to anything I liked, but the tears came down anyway. And the tiny white alto turned into a blurry white dot on a blurry grey road. This was really happening!

Life had changed so suddenly, but the change was good. It made me stand on my own two feet set firmly on the ground and watch my picture-perfect fairy tale drive away and 40 kmph. There it was, one of the best things in life, minus the lavender-cloudy-visual-effect, my spoonful of “100% real”.

Makes me realize now, after two years of staying alone, real is good! 


(This post was written for the Kissan 100% Real Blogger Contest on IndiBlogger.)