What is my calling?

Some days in life make themselves so uneventful and dull, that, when I look back and recall something worth remembering about those days; it seems they never existed in my life.

I dread my life to be a series of such uneventful and unmemorable days.

Well, they say “A day is as good as you make it”.  But that zeal to pull myself out of idleness or boredom or nothingness, to “make” the day good, seems like something I never possessed.

All I do is waiting for the day to get over, with the hope that the next day will be miraculously interesting, without I putting in fruitless efforts, fatalism at its peak.

The strange restless feeling is killing.

What is my calling?

As they say about love, you do not decide to fall in love, and you realise only after falling for someone, that you have fallen, does it hold true for all other serendipities?

There is this strange restless feeling in me that does not let me be at peace.

 I do not feel complete. I do not feel I have achieved anything that can be termed an achievement.

I feel a little hungry all the time. I feel a little sleep-deprived all the time. I feel a little restless all the time.

What is my calling?

A strange feeling haunts me all night when I do not have the answer to “what did I do today that I can feel more worthy than yesterday?”

I wake up in a confused state of mind- somewhat hopeful, somewhat anxious, somewhat optimistic, and somewhat nervous. Wake up with the other question waiting to be answered.

What is my calling?

Sometimes I feel I can become a writer, but this very question that “Do I have it in me?” kills all the spirit.

It has been said, “If you think you can do it, you can. If you think you can’t do it, you can’t.”

True. But I am yet to find my “it”.
The "it" which could be a solid answer to "What is my calling? "

The only baseless hope that someday I will wake up with an answer to “What is my calling?” keeps me going.

May be the hope is not baseless. I should not let it die. I should nurture it in all ways I can.

It’s then when I realise the profundity of this statement:  “Faith is your wealth.”

I do not do a favour to anyone if I pose faith in destiny or in God. It is my own wealth. If I lose it, it’s a loss to me, not to anybody else.

A complacent soul is always at peace. If you are restless, you are awakened.

But staying awake is not enough, is it?

You got to pursue your calling.

What is my calling?

Nothing more, Nothing less.

A girl's voice, who gets eve-teased, who is harassed, who is treated with contempt on the roads of India.

I go out of home with eyes full of dreams, face lit with smiles.

With hope and confidence.

With zeal and strength.

As much as your’ s , my friend.

I feel equal. I feel safe. I feel secure.

I feel I am a person, not just a girl.

I respect you and expect just the same from you.
Nothing more, nothing less.

I walk on the roads fearless.
Why should I worry, it is my world too,

As much as it is yours.

But you tell me every day that “Whatever you are, you are a girl”.

You look at me as if I am an object.

When your lustful eyes dig deep into my body, it hurts.

You throw at me every day, your dirty words,

As if I am a garbage bin.

I feel unclean. I feel eroded.

I am not an object.

Nor a garbage bin.

Neither am I your property.

You do and forget, but it remains with me.

It frightens me when I step out of home.
It upsets me when I am alone.

It leaves a scar for forever.

I don’t feel safe.

The dreams in my eyes have to share the space with fear, caution.
The smile on my face is restrained.

I am bold, I can fight you.

But why do I have to fight each day just to be myself?

I can forget what you do, but not as easily as you do.

Why can’t you be human?

I am human. I respect you.

You be human. Respect me.

Nothing more, nothing less.