Privelege

The spectacle of sky high skyscrapers hoisted deep in the darkness of the night is about as inviting as bemusing. Those towering buildings were figuratively the apotheosis of human civilization, atleast they were in my eyes, eyes with its gazes curtailed to two story buildings, with seepage further ruining the dilapidated ruins.

The spectacle waned off with time, but my curious interest sustained through the years. Places divested of dogma, traditions that never arrested individual expression; sure, America was a conundrum, and exciting still. With ambitions stifled in voiceless echoes, the US of A was an idyllic liberator.

Naturally, those born in such first world countries seemed more privileged than I ever was, or so was my provincial belief.

In India, it is almost a norm for the parents to sustain a child through college, and even save their lifelong earnings for their marriage. For an average Indian, a 16 year old working at McDonald's is rather unseemly, quite incongruous with one’s ideal ambitions.

Besides, the student loans in US are ghastly, almost a vicious trap to pay off college; a scourge we Indian are most oblivious of.

I write this whilst traveling back to my college (private) which my father paid for, in a air-conditioned coach my sister paid for, after having spent a couple of days with my girlfriend in a room (almost a monthly affair) that my sister rents.

Countless bucks I never earned and would never have to pay for.

You tell me, how privileged am I? Maybe a little more than a white guy my age in a first world country? Maybe so.