Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy with my life. I’m content. I can order food at will, go out at will, I enjoy good sleep, and I’m surrounded by people who love me. I’m living the life I imagined — just the ACL ligament tear in my right knee is something I didn’t expect. But hey, not complaining. I’m good. I mean I can now tell if the weather is changing without even going out, because knee starts aching. That’s a big plus!
And yet something is missing.
Not in the dramatic ‘my life is meaningless and I’ve adopted a stray cat to fill the void’ way. Just — you know that moment in movies where the protagonist stares out the window while violins play in the background and rain trickles dramatically down the glass? That. But in real life, I stare at my Swiggy delivery status and the violins are replaced by ‘order out for delivery.’
I’m not sad. I just want to be Batman.
No, not for the money. Or the car. Or the chiseled jawline that cuts through crime and onions.
I want the purpose. The drama. The weight of the world. The 2 AM rooftop monologue while looking over the city like, ‘It’s always darkest before dawn.’
Let me explain.
Batman, though fictional, is more real than we give him credit for. He’s the guy who lost everything — parents, peace of mind, probably some cartilage — and instead of becoming a couch potato who bashes the system on X (formerly Twitter), he chose to become the system. A vigilante. A nocturnal overachiever. A one-man HR department for criminals.
He doesn’t have superpowers. Just generational wealth, childhood trauma, a gym subscription that actually gets used, and the ability to look serious without the I’ve constipation look. He wakes up (or rather stays up) and fights crime, saves people, and follows principles. Doesn’t kill. Doesn’t drink on duty. And somehow still has time to maintain those abs. Inspirational.
And even with the suit, the gadgets, the growly voice, he’s lonely. Deeply. He doesn’t get the girl. He doesn’t join the office party. He doesn’t even forward Good Morning messages. Because he knows — it’s not about being seen. It’s about doing what needs to be done. Alone. Every single time.
That — that’s the bit that gets me.
There are days I wake up, and everything is fine. Work is fine. Friends are fine. My Gmail inbox only has 12,000 unread emails. Life is cruising in third gear. And yet something inside me wants to rise. Will you please get your minds out of gutters? To do something heroic. To feel like the whole world’s against me and I still chose the righteous path — while Hans Zimmer’s soundtrack plays in the background and someone, somewhere says, ‘We didn’t deserve him.’
I want to walk down a foggy street in a hoodie. Save someone from a minor mugging. Hand the criminal over to a confused local constable who says, ‘Aap kaun ho?’ (Who are you?) And I whisper, ‘I’m vengeance,’ before disappearing into the shadows, i.e. a 10-minute Uber ride home.
There’s something oddly beautiful about wanting to be the hero even when no one’s watching. Not for the glory. Not for the credit. But just to prove to yourself that you can.
To feel like:
I fought my own overthinking and didn’t send a passive-aggressive email.
I cooked instead of ordering out.
I worked out. Twice. In one month.
I didn’t text my ex. Even after three whiskeys and a playlist named ‘Memories I Pretend I’m Over.’
Small victories. Quiet moments of heroism. Batman stuff.
Maybe it’s dramatic. Maybe it’s unnecessary. But maybe that’s okay.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Maybelline. (Thanks 9gag) I’m never stopping telling this joke.
Because life isn’t always about being happy. Sometimes it’s about being brave. Even if your battle is with dirty laundry, existential dread, and the delivery guy who never calls before arriving.
Maybe, for just one day, when the clouds have covered the city, rain is yet to kiss the Earth, when the lines between day and night are blurry, I’ll get to be that person. The one who did something good. Quietly. Without needing validation. Just because it felt right.
And maybe Hans Zimmer will score my life for once. Not with epic violins, but with the soft background score of self-respect.
Till then, I’ll just sip my coffee, wait for my knee to heal, and rehearse my Batman voice in case the moment arrives.
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Nice one Bhai, "you're not the substacker we need, but the substacker we deserve" hope you get the reference 😉
Such a delightful read!