Skip to main content

Exploring Change

"So how has exchange changed you?"

I might be one of the rare few who will respond to that question with an "I don't know". But honestly, I do not know and I am myself stupefied by this lack of an answer when the question was directed towards me, especially considering how much I preach about the pursuit of a meaningful life and the dare to take up life changing experiences. 

And while it a month too early, I think this is a good time as any to look back and reflect on a period where I was far away from the warmth and comfort of family and friends, in a strange land that is both Antarctica and Spain in the same year. It has been a period which I had earmarked as a time to do some soul searching, but that has instead left me critcising the often over-maturity and sometime immaturity of my decisions. 

I still feel that I am very much the same person I was before, though perhaps I have picked up some new pleasures in the form of grocery shopping and (very horrible) cooking. I recall my father's surprise on learning I had made all the way from the airport to the hotel by myself, navigating through London's transport system for the very first time, thereby offering some rare praise of 'having grown up' that I reveled in. But I told him, when you have money in your pocket (and taxis everywhere), one can never be too scared to take some risks.

That explained the lack of change. You cannot change a person by sending him on a vacation. True change requires adverse circumstances that makes a person struggle and come to a life changing realisation that will force him to change himself. For the Singaporean male, it is usually National Service. For the immigrant, it is the difficulty in adapting to a new land and a new culture, far from home. For everyone, it is responsibility, not simply for our own lives and actions, but often the lives and actions of others. Changing circumstances, events and people that cross that internal pain threshold within us, these are what makes us change, for the better or for the worse.

Though if one were to carefully dissect that question of how much something has changed you, it is asked under the assumption that the past was not good enough, that the whole engine had to be overhauled. And so we replace the engine, we force ourselves to change because it was asked for, only to find the car does not purr proudly as it once used to.

When all that was really needed was to tighten that bolt.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Fool's Pride

I was rolling up the sleeve of my uniform, preparing for a call up that might never come, when I realised that somehow I was overcome by a strange sense of pride, a pride that wanted the length of my sleeve to be precise as I have always pictured in my mind. Any longer, I would look shabby. Any shorter, I would look amateur. Then I donned the green, tightened the velcro around my waist and looked in the mirror. It was just like before and the memories started flooding me. I never really liked it when I donned it for 2 years in a row. Then I was in a place where I detested the culture, the harsh discipline, the unreasonable demands and the lack of purpose in everything I did. But now that it was over, when I look back, it was perhaps the greatest time of my life. The suffering, the digging, the starving, the cold, the banter, the rowdiness, the jungle, the marches,the mountains, the food, the stories, the friendships, it was all worth the 2 years. A girl friend of mine once asked...

Marriage and All That : Part 2

"How about I get married?" "Are you serious?" "Yea" "No really. If you are serious, I can start looking for one" "Uhh....Nah. I was just kidding" After a while, she stopped asking me if I were serious. Instead, she would laugh it off every time I suggested it, which was the original intention of my question. For me it was just comic relief, this idea of marriage that parents back in India would pester their children with once they reached just about where I was right now; young, working with a steady income and of totally no use at home. Though when she did ask me if I was serious, I do remember feeling a palpitation in my heart, the kind one gets when having to make a yuge decision (#trump2016 #makeamericagreatagain), knowing very well that she, along with an army of aunts, waited for my green light to start searching for a bride for the most promising of their nephews. A NRI (non residential Indian used to refer to the ...

6:15 on Hardy Toll

My left hand lies curled in a tight fist between my thighs, while the right presses stiffly against the coarse leather of the steering wheel, bearing the burden of the task. Though to call it a burden would be an overstatement of an activity that once gave me a sleepless 23 hour flight but now bordered on mindlessness. Now, being on the that road, at that time, when even the sun was too lazy to rise from its sleep, was second nature to me. Thoughts raced through my mind, thoughts about the destination I was headed to. The bulk of them recollected old frustrations and the remainder imagined new ones. My left fist curl tighter as I sped ahead in the air conditioned cocoon. I try to keep to the right of the two lanes as I drove, quasi subconsciously,  at 60 miles per hour on a a 65 mile per hour lane, which still had an additional legally tolerable 10 mile per hour buffer. Lost in my unending imaginings, I stay at that speed until an even slower traveler in front jerk me i...