Middled, muddled

Hanging in between the haves and have-nots
Is precarious.
For I know not where I belong.
Always reaching for the elusive dream,
Of becoming,
Turning away from the sweat and toil of the wretched,
Because I want to distance myself from it,
Spending my childhood within
Firmly drawn lines of modesty
And boundaries that shield me
From knowing what lies beyond.

Come adulthood and I first taste my freedom,
By gladly bringing down those walls,
With the thirst to prove that I too can belong,
Feel at ease with wine and caviar,
Branded clothes and leather tote bags that
I dared not even window-shop
In those early years.

Now, my thick leather wallet heaves
under the guilt of plastic cards,
spent on once forbidden whims
And fancies of others, whom i must please,
In order to please myself.

At somewhere near middle age,
When the headiness of wanting to be is all gone,
It suddenly dawns on me, that
All those lessons in frugality
And modesty, among other things,
Were lessons for life, not living.
I pick them up in haste,
Allow them to surround me once again.
I draw those boundaries
Around me and my children.

And then i sit, wondering,
Will history repeat itself?



been reading a lot about the slow degradation of middle class values - the one that the average indian always prided himself in. now, it is steadily eroding. is consumerism the culprit? is it sudden surges of income? is it the loss of time in our lives - all those moments we spent with families, growing up, are now lost. this came after a very heart rending story i heard about a bpo employee from an average family. by the time she realised how far she had come from her roots, she was gone. too far.