When I was a kid, I saw a movie called Top Gun on Star Movies. And immediately fell in love with it. Even though every part of the dialogue except "Roger that, Captain!" flew right over my head (Haha. Punz.), every single thing about it appeared super cool. Tom Cruise and his aviators, the stylish dogfights...and most importantly, the kickass aircraft.
Kids around me wanted to be regular boring things like policemen and teachers once they grew up. But then I had decided what I wanted to become.
A fuckin' fighter pilot.
Fire away missiles from my F-22 into enemies while "Danger Zone" plays in the background, and then fly through the falling bits of metal and flames with panache. Land the beast and alight from it, while a gorgeous damsel comes running to me (yes, on the runway) in ultra slow motion. I'd hold her tightly, take my aviators off and say something cool like, "Am I late for the movie date, honey?". Then she would throw her head back and laugh.
That's it. I'm gonna be a fighter pilot and flying-kick all the bad guys' arses... Now where do I have to sign?
Except I didn't get to sign anywhere except in friends' slam books(in which I still wrote Fighter Pilot in the Ambition blank).
Apparently it turned out you didn't always get what you wanted. Life is unpredictable, you see, much like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates. (But hey, I want at least Bournville if not Ferrero Rocher, okay? Not Aasa toffee.)
A few years passed, and it dawned on me that it takes a lot of dedication and hard work to become a pilot. But there was another way, an easier one(or so I thought) to be close to those flying machines. Aeronautical Engineering.
Though I love technology a lot and wanted to do something in those 4 years, I despised my college and the whole education system in general (3 Idiots days, those were). Slowly, acads took a backseat and I began doing everything else except study. And though I had some really good experiences, I came out of B. Tech with fading colors. Heh.
Now after a stint in content writing(yep), I'm back to square one. All I have is a wealth of experiences that taught me it's okay to fail. That wounds aren't permanent, and that their scars will make you a tough dawg. Wiser and weather-beaten, I begin again...to explore and discover what there is. And what is to come.
Gotta put a dent in the universe. Or at least a few scratches. There's really no point, or else.
And I'm juuust beginning to sharpen my claws.
P.S: I had this aviation pin-up girl as my wallpaper until recently when my mum saw it and gave me a disgusted look. Another case of parents killing our childhood dreams. :/
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