"I want to be a..."

"I want to be an IFS officer," said Rheya, while her younger brother explained that he was going to be a doctor who would also sing to his patients (he is quite a singer, considering his eight years). This oft-repeated ceremony of asking little ones what they would like to become when they grow up reminded me of myself at that stage. At a time when friends were repeating well-practiced lines such as "I would like to become a doctor" or "I would like to become an engineer," I'd revealed that I was nursing ambitions of becoming a sweeper.

I was five, I think, and I was fascinated by the sweepers in Calcutta, who came home to clean the toilets. At that stage, all I saw was a jolly middle-aged woman dressed in blue, who sang happily while she cleaned the toilet with her long broom. She looked happy and on her way out, she always winked at me, and whispered "bye." To me, she looked happy and she did seem like she had a fun job. So I wanted to be like her.

At that time, my parents thought all this was very funny and they believed that before long I would also be making honorable statements such as, "When I grow up, I will become a cardiac surgeon." But no! From wanting to become a sweeper, I graduated to wanting to become a fish woman. The fish woman usually arrived following her loud, "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaachh" (Mach is fish in Bengali). Then you'd see her walk by carrying two baskets on either ends of a long stick. I was oblivious to her stained teeth, her unclean feet and her lice-infested hair. I stood rooted to the ground watching her argue about the cost and the quality of the fish that she was selling.

Before long I was thinking of becoming a vegetable woman. I liked the thought of weighing the vegetables and putting them into a bag. Just when my parents were beginning to get worried, I told them one evening, "I want to be an air hostess." My parents let out a sigh of relief, offering to even play airhostess with me. From then on, I was always rearranging the furniture to give it the look of an airplane. I'd tell my parents and brother where to sit and then I'd re-emerge carrying a tray with glasses of water and a fake smile plastered on my face. When Mom wasn't looking I'd manage to put on some lipstick as well and most often I'd manage to wear a saree too. Soon, even guests were being forced to play the game when they came home. "Its just a stage," said some and yes it was.

I was watching a lot of movies by then, and I wanted to become an actress. The thought of wearing great clothes and make-up, to dance around trees, was rather inviting. I went to bed every night seeing myself as a famous actress that everyone was crazy about. By now, experience had taught my parents not to take my ambitions too seriously. From becoming an actress, I expressed an interest in becoming a singer. I was going for classes and the teacher told my parents that I had immense talent. I practiced seriously, but when guests offered to listen to my singing, I'd wish for the ground to swallow me. Then I'd slink away unnoticed, wondering why I was so shy.

As I grew older, my ambitions improved. While struggling with my board exams, I expressed a desire to become a fashion designer. I walked around with a notebook (I wonder where it is now) that contained all my weird designs. To the fifteen-year-old, the designs were splendid. (Of course, my loyal mother spoke about how I could improve my skills once I joined the course). But by then the results were out; I imagined I was good at science and relatives suggested I become a dentist. Could I forget my dentist? The kind, masked and gloved man who looked into my mouth with pleasure and made more money than most people I knew did. Thanks to my awful set of teeth, the dentist had risen from owning just one dental chair to many more, an air-conditioned office and a posh waiting room. Yes, there was money here.

So I took science in my 11th and 12th. It didn't take me very long to realise that I wasn't scientifically inclined. I hate Newton for seeing the apple fall and hated Archimedes for his theory (even now, all I remember is the story of him running out naked screaming EEuuurreeekkkaa). So will great difficulty and with the help of three devoted tuition teachers, I managed a decent 79% for my 12th. I danced past the school gates when the results were out and never looked back. By then I'd decided to take a break from forming new ambitions. For three years I studied literature and did all the things I loved. I read, wrote and did mighty well.

As I was finishing, another thought crossed my mind, "What next!" In college we were also introduced to mass communication and I enjoyed it tremendously. I created storyboards for little ads, wrote for the paper and made a seven-minute film. Nothing was great, but I looked upon all of them with maternal pride. I had a lot to learn. So now I'm doing my masters in mass communication. The journey has been long, from wanting to become a sweeper to wanting to become a documentary film-maker (did I tell you I wanted to make documentary films?), but it's been worth it.

And if I can indulge in some gossiping, many of the girls who spoke about becoming doctors and engineers when we were five, are married today. *wink*