I thought my Life would be like my Father’s

I think there was only one man I looked up to when I was growing up. It was my father. He had successfully built a narrative about himself to me of being a great man.

The story was

“ I ran away from home at the age of 10 with no money. I came to Mumbai and became an Engineer form a prestigious mumbai College studying under Street lamps often”.

Most of this is true, he was extremely successful given the condition. How many kids who run away from home can build houses and buy imported cars in their life time. But then this a story I hear often from the baby boomers. Baby Boomers coming to Bombay during Partition and then building houses in Pali Hill or becoming successful in their own rights.

Were Indian Baby Boomers relatively more successful ?

I really don’t know. I at least haven’t come across such a piece of study on Indian baby boomers. But in America and Europe, baby boomers saw the worst of the days after WWII and saw the best of the days. They amassed substantial wealth.

Why did I think I will have a life like my fathers

My life is so much different. I spend most of time working in front of a laptop. I work alone most of the time. Most of my work is done over emails and phone. I have no office to go to. I sometimes go to Starbucks to work.

Dad once home would eat his dinner and go to sleep. I work before dinner and after dinner. There is no fixed time for my work. I can work from any place in the world. Anywhere I will be paid is my office.

What will be the life of the next gen?

I spend considerable time worrying about the career of my children. Will it be better or will it get worse. Will they live on basic income or will they be millionaires. Are they under the same delusion that I was? What can I do to make them awake? Do they even realise how good one needs to be to succeed? Amen!

Textile Bobbins

I was on my vacations, had given my 12th standard board exams. So with nothing to do, I went to dad’s factory.

I wanted to be an industrialist like him. Dad suggested I go and work on the factory floor. The lower section was the moulding section, and the first floor was the textile bobbin’s section.

I preferred the first floor. The moulding section was too hot (literally) for me to handle. I preferred the lathes and drills in the textile bobbin’s section.

Furthermore, the people in textile bobbin’s section were a little more refined. They could talk to me, and we used to chat in between work. The moulding section had crude workers who were not so good at holding a conversation.

I hated Ratnagiri then, where the factory was, now after 30 years, I am nostalgic. I yearn for that place. The silence in the small town of Ratnagiri used to frustrate me. Now I feel like I should retire there.

Things change as you grow older. I miss the people from that place. A big price to pay for hating the place that it comes back into your memories and haunts you like a long-lost love.