This is a kind of a conditioning problem. This inquisitiveness. It defies age, gender or any other stereotypes. It just comes naturally to us.
Sample these conversations with a friend. A male friend. A ‘cool thirty year old’.
Friend – You know.. May be, you could get a maid. It is okay if you have to pay a lot of money. You will still have the luxury of working.
Me – Of course. But, I chose to stay at home.
Friend – You can move to your home town. Then, you can leave the kids with their grandparents and continue working.
Me – Of course. But, I wish to raise my kids myself. It is an experience I want to savour.
Friend – You will have enough free time until the kids come home. They come home only at two in the afternoon, right? What do you until then? Don’t you get bored?
Me – Not really. I just sit down and stare at the ceiling. I love doing that. Is it necessary that we must keep doing something?
Somewhere during our course of growing up, we begin believing that our way is the only right way of doing things. Or, there are some stereotypes that we like to conform to. These, depend on the time and age we are in.
Our grandmothers had to manage home staying at home. If they ever thought of working outside, the inquisitive Indian began working overtime.
Our mothers had to have a low-key job. A teacher. A banker. And, the like. If they ever thought of having jobs more competitive than that, the inquisitive Indian began working overtime.
We, our generation of women, are considered to be achievers. Multi-taskers, sandwiched between duties to be discharged at work and home. If we choose to defy that by being at home, the inquisitive Indian begin working overtime. If we choose to not get married at all, the inquisitive Indian starts working overtime.
All of us have, at some or the other point in time, fitted into the shoes of this inquisitive Indian, conditioned to believe at being a part of the sheep herd. We might not have been pointing things out to others like my friend; yet, there would’ve been a time when we never believed that it is not wrong in not leading the photocopied life of others.
It takes a lot of effort on our part to break out of this mould. But, once we are out of the cocoon, we become beautiful butterflies. Butterflies that are never similar. Butterflies that don’t judge each other. Butterflies that love their life. Butterflies that are not intimidated by the environment. Butterflies that make others happy.
I wish this world be filled with more and more of such butterflies. Happy, beautiful and unique.