The Road Less Travelled

I ran away from home, only to find myself

- Srikaran Masabathula

I WAS THE ONLY ONE at the deserted bus stop. I looked at my watch, it was 3.15 a.m. Lighting a cigarette, I waited—the bus would arrive in 15 minutes. I had no idea where my life was headed; what my parents would make of the letter I had left behind for them. All I knew was that I was going to travel down the east coast and up to Goa. Just a few hours earlier, I had shoved some clothes into a backpack, along with a couple of notebooks, a little money and a thick bedsheet. Just in case. Then, I walked out of my home in Perraju Peta, Kakinada [Andhra Pradesh].

I had returned home for the summer from the US, where I was doing an undergraduate degree. My grades had been poor and my family was convinced I was not working hard enough. They wanted me to pursue a career in software; I wanted to find my passion. They expected answers, long-term plans, where I had none. The possibility of spending decades attached to a desk doing something I hated was as scary as the thought of failing my loving parents. I was on antidepressants, but they don’t make you happy, they just make you numb. I knew that if I wanted things to change, I had to do something. You can’t walk the same path every day and expect different results. I had two options: either listen to my parents and be discontented for the rest of my life, or take a shot at what I really wanted to do. I chose the open road.