Half a year has passed and it seems like yesterday. It was yesterday (or six months back) that I had an anxious father and a depressed mother who complained of sleepless nights as their only daughter was away in far away lands and pleaded coming back home.
It was yesterday my boss (ex) called me in to his cabin and asked to take over in the next rung of the ladder as he is impressed with the past month's results.
It was yesterday that I had walked up to claim my extra monetary reward on exceptional performances.
and Its Today that I sit by lonely in front of this old computer browsing job portals, getting excited as every phone ring (in the hope of a potential interview call), having to silently accept the advice poured in by any tom dick and harry, see the depressed face of either parent at some point of the day ( their only darling daughter is unemployed and unmarried) and fret about my destiny.
Now what had happened in between this? Why was my yesterdays so fulfilling and today so void. I think in between somewhere I yearned being with my parents, I longed for companionship, I needed to celebrate my life with my dear and near ones. I remember how I longed for my daddy as I had to walk back home alone after those late night shifts. I had wished to hug mummy and cry when a certain show of mine failed. I had felt empty everytime I had received a bonus or appreciation as I had no one to rejoice in. I was convinced of making the right decision when friends applauded my decision to quit my job just because family was my priority.
It was he my friend who kept warning me, "Maybe you just need some holidays, you are overworked. Go on holidays and come back. Dont be foolish"! " No, there is no use in such a life, we earn to live happy. What use of a life when there is no happiness. Maybe later in life I might not get such a well paid job but we three (mummy, daddy and me) would be happy together", and such did I argue.
As I wind up this post of mine, I am convinced that you dont work just for the money but also for a social life, self realisation, to hold your head up high. Family, happiness, joy all has a place but better when on a holiday I suppose !!!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
... on my journey to life
“God! Its been so long since I have met you. Where have you been? How have you been? Tell me everything blah blah blah…”, the words flow from my friend as soon as she steps in to my house.
We settle down with some hot milk rich masala tea and she sighs, “ Its been eight years since I have seen you last” ;I almost dropped the serving of potato bhujias (a popular Indian snack) I was helping myself with. Eight years is a lot of time. “ The last I met you was on our farewell in Al Rayyan!”
Al Rayyan my school! As a part of my school education I had been to 3 schools but Al Rayyan is where I seeked my 7 years of education. In those 7 years I suppose I learned some of the mathematic rules, some science, some grammar and more. But I can recollect that crowded narrow corridor which led me to the open ground and assembling there in the mornings, running and rushing after school. Those grey pinofers and long grey skirts, Cap tests and our Ali uncle.
“So tell me everything in your life after Al Rayyan”, her question cut my train of thoughts as the driver applied his brakes. It’s a very sunny afternoon and we continued our talks, I was thirsty for water. My thoughts trailed back to school again, to that water cooler on the left side of the play ground. It used to be a mad rush to get a fistful of water. Yeah, we didn’t use glasses, were there any? I am not too sure now, but we used to cup our fists and drink water. Its surprising, but even today I can feel that coolness trickle down my throat. She notices me smiling as I continue telling her details of my next two years of A-level in another school in the city.
We manage to grab ourselves a seat by the window. The sea was gleaming green in all its glory. The waiter places two plates of food filled in front of us and walks by. I notice his white and black uniform and I tell my friend that’s the same thing the samosa uncles wore to school. My friend laughs and adds her bit about our samosa uncle who was always there by 10 in the morning to sell samosas from the big brown cartoon for Dhs.1.
I have had very good samosas in Bangalore, I add. “Tell me more of what you did in Bangalore, I am interested” she says.
Bangalore, the garden city of India- that’s were I went for college. I love the way she is reacting to my Bangalore banther. I had loads to tell her about my five years of college studies, of my four inter-collegiate events, three industrial trainings, two part time jobs and one placement. After five years of rigouros education and training I joined the lot of fine tuned media professionals. Life asked to work and experience newspapers in UAE, India ; an orphanage in India and finally a media house in Budapest.
“…then?”, she fills in to cover the silence as our plated are cleared and we clear the bills. On a cheerful note I add on, “ I have boarded a bus which is taking me through the rough roads of Life and I seem to enjoy by humpy bumpy ride”. She smiles again. She has not changed nor has her smile. I had last told her good bye in school and its been eight years. Its surprising how we took it off right from where we left it last. “Care for some coffee?”, she asks me as she looks for a cosy spot in the mall- she looks at me and adds “ I must tell you about me now!”.
With fascination I see her happily narrating me about her eight years. She has achieved her degree, she has found love in life, she is in lookout for work and she is content. She excuses herself to attend a phone call. It has been a wonderful day. I have read some where, meeting and parting is the way of life but parting and then meeting is the hope of life. It’s a blessing to have such hopes and joys and to get to enjoy such moments with friends. She comes thrilled and asks “ You fancy a trip to school? Al Rayyan is having its sports day it seems!”
As she attends more phone calls, I make a date to visit Al Rayyan ; my alma mater, where I was told “ Knowledge is all that remains after you have forgotten what you have learnt in school”
We settle down with some hot milk rich masala tea and she sighs, “ Its been eight years since I have seen you last” ;I almost dropped the serving of potato bhujias (a popular Indian snack) I was helping myself with. Eight years is a lot of time. “ The last I met you was on our farewell in Al Rayyan!”
Al Rayyan my school! As a part of my school education I had been to 3 schools but Al Rayyan is where I seeked my 7 years of education. In those 7 years I suppose I learned some of the mathematic rules, some science, some grammar and more. But I can recollect that crowded narrow corridor which led me to the open ground and assembling there in the mornings, running and rushing after school. Those grey pinofers and long grey skirts, Cap tests and our Ali uncle.
“So tell me everything in your life after Al Rayyan”, her question cut my train of thoughts as the driver applied his brakes. It’s a very sunny afternoon and we continued our talks, I was thirsty for water. My thoughts trailed back to school again, to that water cooler on the left side of the play ground. It used to be a mad rush to get a fistful of water. Yeah, we didn’t use glasses, were there any? I am not too sure now, but we used to cup our fists and drink water. Its surprising, but even today I can feel that coolness trickle down my throat. She notices me smiling as I continue telling her details of my next two years of A-level in another school in the city.
We manage to grab ourselves a seat by the window. The sea was gleaming green in all its glory. The waiter places two plates of food filled in front of us and walks by. I notice his white and black uniform and I tell my friend that’s the same thing the samosa uncles wore to school. My friend laughs and adds her bit about our samosa uncle who was always there by 10 in the morning to sell samosas from the big brown cartoon for Dhs.1.
I have had very good samosas in Bangalore, I add. “Tell me more of what you did in Bangalore, I am interested” she says.
Bangalore, the garden city of India- that’s were I went for college. I love the way she is reacting to my Bangalore banther. I had loads to tell her about my five years of college studies, of my four inter-collegiate events, three industrial trainings, two part time jobs and one placement. After five years of rigouros education and training I joined the lot of fine tuned media professionals. Life asked to work and experience newspapers in UAE, India ; an orphanage in India and finally a media house in Budapest.
“…then?”, she fills in to cover the silence as our plated are cleared and we clear the bills. On a cheerful note I add on, “ I have boarded a bus which is taking me through the rough roads of Life and I seem to enjoy by humpy bumpy ride”. She smiles again. She has not changed nor has her smile. I had last told her good bye in school and its been eight years. Its surprising how we took it off right from where we left it last. “Care for some coffee?”, she asks me as she looks for a cosy spot in the mall- she looks at me and adds “ I must tell you about me now!”.
With fascination I see her happily narrating me about her eight years. She has achieved her degree, she has found love in life, she is in lookout for work and she is content. She excuses herself to attend a phone call. It has been a wonderful day. I have read some where, meeting and parting is the way of life but parting and then meeting is the hope of life. It’s a blessing to have such hopes and joys and to get to enjoy such moments with friends. She comes thrilled and asks “ You fancy a trip to school? Al Rayyan is having its sports day it seems!”
As she attends more phone calls, I make a date to visit Al Rayyan ; my alma mater, where I was told “ Knowledge is all that remains after you have forgotten what you have learnt in school”
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