cThe epigram that is the core of the subject is too true to be denied. But yet, when I put it to my personal life, I fail to equate the statement with my life. The situation underlines a paradox.

On the face of it, I fall into the second category of the won’ts’ whereas my parents committed me to be the third category of the can’ts’. But I am neither; nay, I am both. Mark how.

I am the only son of my parents and I have a brother six years my senior. My brother has a good and straight academic record, but I have none. I have little interest in study and career, and almost no musical voice.

Being a son, I must have some quality to recommend myself. If a boy, I could run a shop or be put in some good concern writing ledgers. But for me marriage is a must. I am thrust into a class, prodded with texts. But my temperament won’t accept either the texts that repel it or my teacher who becomes more and more cross every day. My brother’s smooth sailing career throws into greater relief my worthlessness as a child of my parents. My father gets me a harmonium. But after some initial attempts, I feel bored with the instrument. I won’t sit with the exercise-lessons daily, as told by my music teacher. This won’ts often created a row in the family. As I grew in age I could often here my parents quarrelling, I being the topic. They discussed about my perverse nature. Mother would charge father that he ought to spare some of his hours of card-playing and teach me. Father being a good card player, it touched him to the quick. He would charge back in reply that she too can spare some of her idle gossips to make me sit with the harmonium. This often caused an unpleasant quarrel.

But, unfortunately, none of my parents bothered to probe what is my ‘will’. By chance, one day I was caught unaware by my father’s friend who is a professional painter. This passion was my strongpoint. But I painted secretly as I thought that it would be condemned by my parents. Not only they; it is a general rule with parents that they discourage those bents in their children that do not fall in line with their ideas. My artist-elder, whom I call uncle, was amazed to see my paintings. My father being out, he spent some time with me, sorting through my works, which were not less in number.

This event broke the ice. At his instance I bagged some coveted district distinctions in painting competitions. Subsequently I secured my admission in the fine arts department in the Shantiniketan. And now I am pet tingly reckoned as one among the ‘wills’.

Naturally the posed epigram in the question can never have a cut-and dried answer. It is extremely difficult to put human beings into water-tight categories.