The art of being ordinary

Last weekend, when I was cleaning my house, I chanced upon a copy of Osho Times

The art of being ordinary

Last weekend, when I was cleaning my house, I chanced upon a copy of Osho Times. On its cover was written, Osho says, "Everyone wants to be extraordinary, how ordinary is that." Not that this changed me in any way, but made me indulge in the otherwise rare luxury of introspection. Have I achieved everything I wanted to?

Fairly, I suppose, but my greedy mind wouldn't allow me to believe that. My life and my aims become more and more complex by the day; no achievement feels good enough. I strongly feel that my childhood dream of dating my class teacher were much more satisfying than my professional ones of earning money and fame. As an adult, I have started dreaming practically. The change has been gradual, and I was completely aware of it.

I started my schooling with a Hindi medium school. My parents wanted me to graduate in English, so I appeared for the entrance exams. I failed, because I couldn't understand the questions, but then jugaad made everything possible, thanks to dad. 'To learn English' was my first aim, and the moment I started talking in toota-phoota English, I was the happiest person around.

When I shifted to boarding in 1992, I set my first naughty goal u2014 to date my 30-year-old English teacher. She was fair, had short hair and an accent to die for. Plus, she was my matron. I would wake up late every morning just because she'd come, sit on my bed, pinch my XXXL cheeks and say, "Saurav, you're always late. Wake up." I would run without my slippers just to see her jogging. I still love her, not because she made me crazy, but because when I think of her, I smile the way I seldom do, these days. As I grew up, my ambitions started to change, became weird at times. I have played tactics to be appointed school captain, and beaten up seniors. I felt happy at my feats; I still do.

I still remember, when we were about to leave school for higher studies, some of our classmates were very tensed about college admission. However, there was another bunch whose prime aim was to make girlfriends. And when we did that, we were still happy, even when we were ditched. I failed the first time, and still stood grinning.

Then, the fight got different. Like many of us, I dropped a year to prepare for IIMs. I scored well, but I wasn't happy. Instead, I opted for journalism. I worked with a leading news channel and left within a year, because I realised I was like any other guy on the street. Not that I was not happy, but something was always missing. It's been almost two years since that, but I've never felt content. I now want to do simple stuff theatre, music... just sit back, and in Osho's words, "be extraordinary by being ordinary."

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