“There are things you experience growing up in a small town that create memories that last a lifetime.”

- Carlos Wallace

Arghyadeep Dhar


The Story

“Small town guys” -this common yet agonizing phrase is used to prejudice the not-so-fancy amongst us. Sometimes, I blame myself for not being fortunate enough to be born in a metro city. Why was I given the privilege to wake up to smog-less skies resonating with cacophony-less chirping surrounded by simple people? With tea brewed with milk, served in small, stained glasses, radiating with trivial happiness. Now, it is a very difficult task to describe my town. It is the kind of town that one may come across during a train journey, so insignificant that the name escapes the grips of memory in just a short while. 

Coming to our “dreams”, the only word I can use to describe them is -crazy. They are insane in the truest sense and vividly unthinkable for most. To make it a little easier to process,allow me to state a few. 1. Successfully incorporate cuss words several times in daily conversation to achieve metropolitan polishness like you. 

2. Use sophisticated words like “procrastination”, “entrepreneurship”(famous one in my college) and “narcissism”. 

3. Listen to English music and ridiculously imitate your gesture while you listen to, what I personally feel, is absolute crap and try to mug up the lyrics. 

English, seemingly, does play a great role in our lives. This intimidating language would in fact help you win a debate against me without even making a crisp point. Simple usage of heavy vocabulary would make me freeze with embarrassment on the dais. 

Moving on to the -demotivating mojito. I’m probably the first person to use “demotivating” before mojito. Before coming to this big city, I didn't have much knowledge about this ‘mojito’. Is it “mojito” or “mozito“ ? And how can it have a variety called “virgin“? Then one fine day, reality struck me. This extravagantly named drink is nothing but pudina flavoured ice water with some essence of lemon that burns holes in your pocket. But the most disappointing part was being corrected by one of my linguistically advanced friend,- “It’s ‘mo-hee-to’, not ‘mo-jee-to’ ”. This resulted in everyone present to burst out laughing. This was my first and last mojito. 

Lexically, what you do is called ” bullying”. Incidents like the “mojito massacre” contributed to my absorption of all your so-called ‘critique’ just like a piece of activated charcoal in polluted water. But sadistic pleasure strikes when I realise that you and I live on the same longitude, the same latitude and the same level of dignity despite your metropolitan privileges. I realise it’s practically futile to ask you not to bully me nor is it to criticise you for being privileged. None of it matters, nor has it ever mattered, just like my identity. I may be Ankit from Bilaspur or Rohit from Alwar. I may be someone embracing anonymity to prevent being a victim of your criticism ,all over again. I may even be an unfortunate fetus who is about to be introduced to this biased world in an unpopular town in Bihar. The only thing that does matter, is that ‘I’ will never stop trying to make my voice heard.


Edited By :

Priyanka borwanker

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