EPISODE 4 — Two Lives: The Practical World vs. The Artist Within
565 Words
Heartbreak didn’t make Talwinder weaker—it made him sharper. His writing grew deeper, his melodies darker, and his understanding of emotion more intense. But life didn’t slow down to let him heal. Responsibilities came. Expectations grew. And the world demanded something he wasn’t ready to give: stability.
The Practical Path
After high school, the pressure to choose a “real career” began. His parents, like many immigrant families, only wanted security for their son. They had worked hard, sacrificed comfort, and started their lives from zero so he wouldn’t have to struggle.
To them, a stable job was success.
To Talwinder, stability felt like suffocation.
Still, he understood their fears. He didn’t want to disappoint them. So he chose a path that looked safe—business and finance. He studied hard, got good grades, and followed the formula everyone believed would lead to a comfortable life.
His parents were proud.
Teachers praised him.
Relatives back in Punjab celebrated his achievements.
But inside, something felt wrong.
He was living a life that didn’t feel like his.
The Job That Didn’t Fit
In his early twenties, he joined an investment banking firm.
A prestigious job.
A secure income.
Everything people dream of.
But behind the clean desk, the polished shoes, and the professional smile, he was hiding a truth he couldn’t admit to anyone—that he felt nothing.
Every day began the same way:
Wake up.
Dress up.
Act like everything is fine.
At office, he watched people talk numbers and deadlines with confidence. He tried to blend in, but something inside him felt like it was fading. The more he worked, the more disconnected he felt from himself.
Sometimes, during lunch breaks, he would sit alone in the restroom just to breathe.
Sometimes he stared at the computer screen wondering,
“Is this what my life is supposed to be?”
“Where did that dream disappear to?”
The Secret Night Life
But nights were different.
As soon as he reached home, he changed out of the corporate mask and stepped into a world that felt real—his world. He sat in a small corner of his room with his notebook and cheap microphone, recording rough ideas, soft melodies, and half-written lyrics.
This wasn’t just a hobby.
It was survival.
He didn’t show these songs to anyone. He didn’t post them online. He didn’t even dream of becoming famous. He simply made music because it was the only place he could feel honest.
The double life slowly became exhausting.
Day:
A quiet banker with a tie and a forced smile.
Night:
A broken artist trying to translate his emotions into sound.
The Breaking Point
One late evening, after a long day filled with errors he didn’t mean to make and expectations he couldn’t meet, he walked into the office restroom, looked at himself in the mirror, and saw a stranger.
The tie felt like a rope.
His eyes looked empty.
His shoulders felt heavy.
He whispered to himself,
"Why am I doing this?"
"Who am I trying to prove myself to?"
For the first time, he admitted the truth:
He couldn’t live two lives anymore.
Something had to change.
And the only thing he truly owned—his music—was calling him louder than ever.
He didn’t quit that night.
But the decision had already been made in his heart.
- Writer
