When quitting doesn’t mean the end

When Arijit Singh, the man who crooned love ballads into millions of sleepless Indians' nights declared, "I'm calling it off" it first struck as a sudden 'quitting forever' announcement, which is uncharacteristic of someone as loved and successful as him. It took a while for his fans to realise that he wasn't severing his bond with them or his devotion to music had waned. He was merely choosing to leave the trodden path and go on a pilgrimage that would offer better opportunities to him to evolve as a musician. He was making an informed decision to give up what didn't interest him any longer and go on a quest for something more meaningful. And that in no way is quitting. It is walking away from what has stopped nourishing the spirit and going in pursuit of what will bring greater fulfillment. As a musician. As a creative. As a human. Doing it isn't easy, for it means relinquishing the crown and tossing away years of fame and fandom. It also means settling for the quieter aspects of indulging the art without craving the excesses that come with its loud practice. It takes resolve of a unique kind that only people who pay attention to a higher calling and follow it without stopping to think, "what will I be without the adulation and applause?" can do.

Arijit Singh's career as a musician may have taken a new turn and he may still be among the populace in the future, but his decision made me reflect on how bowing out and leaving is usually labelled as lame quitting. A long time ago, a student of mine had asked if 'giving up' didn't denote failure and I replied that there were different kinds of 'giving up' and they could not be bunched together.  One is where we have fought with persisting problems and hurdles for so long that we are depleted and have no fuel to carry on. It's what we call the end of the road. What we do at that point when all efforts have failed is what will determine the future. We have a choice - to either call it the end, or to pause until we gather more breath, pivot and find a new road to travel. When we do the latter, we have merely taken a detour from our previous path and have set out in a new direction, meaning the journey is still on. We have only given up one thing that hasn't worked to try another. That in no way carries negative connotations. We fail only when we stop walking and not when we change course upon hitting the wall. Then there is the bowing out that people at the pinnacle of acclaim make, amidst continuing cheer. They do it out of an urge to explore a different space so they are remembered well even after their careers have ended. It is a choice made from abundance, not lack. From recognising that the monotony that comes from repetition can usurp the joy that years of sincere effort has brought. This kind of leaving is often romanticised because it carries the assurance of applause even in departure - something akin to what Arijit did. That is an opportunity that few people get and fewer still have the clarity to use well. But both kinds of walking away - the one that comes after success and the one that comes after struggle - are rooted in the same instinct: self-preservation. What happens thereafter on their journey will, for the most part, remain obscure. They may briefly go out of sight to incubate grander plans and marshal their inner resources, only to emerge in a different form. Some may simply hang up their boots and take up something as unassuming as fishing, for success need not always be visible and loud. Sometimes it happens silently - away of the spotlight and entirely on one's own terms.

The writer is a Dubai-based author, columnist, independent journalist and children's writing coach; views are personal