Freedom, do what I WANT Vs. I MUST

Recently, while binge-watching Squid Game, something strange happened. No, not just the shock of people literally dying over red light-green light. Something more unsettling. A question, quiet but sharp, started whispering in my mind:

Are my choices really mine?

I mean; really. Are we choosing, or just reacting to circumstances cleverly dressed up as options?

Because in Squid Game, every player "chooses" to be there. There’s no handcuffs, no force. Just a polite offer: play the game, win a fortune, escape your miserable life. Sounds fair... until you realise they were picked because their lives were already rigged against them. Desperate people with no good options makes the easiest targets for a system pretending to give them freedom.

So when you see them pressing those creepy little buttons; vote to quit, vote to stay; you realise this isn’t choice. It’s theatre. A performance of free will inside a structure that’s already made most of the decisions for them.

And the worst part? It feels familiar.

Maybe not the life-or-death bit, but that gut sense of “I had no real choice,” masked by a surface-level illusion that you did. That job you couldn’t turn down, that apology you had to make, that silence you kept at the wrong time... Were those decisions truly free? Or just forced by the script life handed you?

This is where the story gets bigger. Because Squid Game isn’t the first to ask these questions; it’s just added neon lighting, blood, and a killer soundtrack.

Thousands of years ago, these same questions plagued people who wore robes instead of tracksuits.

In the Ramayana, Prince Rama is told; out of nowhere; that he must give up his throne and go live in the forest for fourteen years. No argument. No tantrum. Just quiet acceptance.

You might think, “Ah, so he had no choice.”

But here’s the twist; he did. He could’ve resisted. He was the rightful heir. He could’ve fought, rallied support, stormed the palace. But he didn’t. He chose the harder path because he believed in a deeper idea: dharma; a kind of sacred responsibility. In Rama’s world, freedom wasn’t about doing whatever you want; it was about doing what’s right, even when it hurts.

Then there’s Sita. No one asked her to follow Rama into exile. But she did. Her choice. Why? Love? Loyalty? Honour? All of them, maybe. Again, we see freedom not as rebellion, but as alignment; a kind of fierce clarity about what matters more than comfort.

But if the Ramayana gives us clean lines and moral clarity, the Mahabharata walks us straight into a messy room and locks the door.

In this epic, every choice feels like a trap. Yudhishthira bets away his kingdom in a dice game because duty tells him to honour the invitation. Arjuna, on the battlefield, refuses to fight because his enemies are his own family. And just when he’s paralysed with moral confusion, Krishna drops a bomb of divine advice:

“Do your duty. But don’t obsess over the result.”

That’s karma yoga; the idea that we are responsible for our actions, but not their outcomes. That real freedom is choosing wisely, even when the world is chaotic. Even when consequences are out of your hands. It’s not a feel-good slogan; it’s a gritty, grown-up way to live.

Fast-forward to The Matrix. Neo is living a quiet life, feeling something’s off. He’s making choices, sure; his job, his apartment, his computer. But underneath it all, something’s not real. And when he finally wakes up, he sees the truth: the world is a simulation, and his freedom has been, well, a lie.

Or has it?

Because once Neo sees the system for what it is, he starts bending it. Twisting it. Rewriting it. His freedom doesn’t come from escaping the Matrix; it comes from understanding how it works. Seeing the rules lets him transcend them.

And isn’t that what Krishna was saying all along? Wake up. Understand the forces shaping your world; be they karma, capitalism, or code. Then act, not blindly, but consciously.

So where does that leave us?

In a world full of deadlines, bank loans, family expectations, and relentless notifications, it’s easy to feel like one of the players; pushed, prodded, cornered. We vote yes or no, move left or right, and call it a choice. But often, the real decisions were already made upstream; in our upbringing, our economy, our past selves.

Still, we’re not doomed to helplessness. If Rama teaches us anything, it’s that honour isn’t accidental. If Arjuna teaches us anything, it’s that clarity requires struggle. And if Neo shows us anything, it’s that once you see the system, you can start to rewire it; even if just a little.

So maybe we’re not free in the way we wish we were. But we’re not powerless either.

We can ask better questions.
We can pause before acting.
We can choose; not always what happens, but how we respond.

And that’s where freedom starts. Not in controlling everything, but in becoming conscious within it.

So next time you make a choice, ask yourself: Is this my decision; or someone else’s programming? Is this duty, or default?

And then; whatever answer you find; act like it matters. Because it does.

Not because you’re free of the script…
But because, for a brief moment,
you’re aware you’re reading it.

And that awareness?
That’s where the story changes.