Re-Counting the Days Post IT - From the Pages of My Life

Please See: This is a chronology of my “NEW WORLD”. As I have taken experiences that are recorded from the noting of my diary, I'd like this to be in the same format.

***...***...***

OCTOBER 18th, 2009

Bangalore
Day THREE

I hope I can survive the next couple of months with the little kitty I have made. I do not know how much my final settlement from the company will get me. I need to buy a laptop and that will take a substantial amount of my savings.

I need to now calculate how much I spend. I need to ask “is this really what I need?” If the answer is NO, then I put down the item, or delete it from my mind. If the answer is yes, then I need to ask myself, can this wait for a month. If the answer for this is also yes, then I condition my mind to telling “if this can wait for a month, then maybe you do not need it”.

I need some physical activity. The only sure way is to carry a bucket of water down the two flights of stairs and wash my car. I save a good 300 rupees by doing this job myself. This money can come in handy for other things – paying my electricity bills, or a portion of the maintenance.

When I walk down with the bucket of water, trying hard not to spill the water on the ground, I am aware of the eyes that are scanning me, from hidden curtains. I walk with pride. I bend down and splash the water on my red Danu Rani (I call her my Ferrari). I see women from across the building stop to take notice, when they are drying faded bed sheets on walkway grills. The men with bursting belly look from the meshed windows. They have never seen a sight like this – a woman who wears a bob, wearing jogging tracks, shining her car. I am sure they marvel at this sight. For you seldom find such a sight to behold in a dusty neighbourhood, when all you do is call “Security! Gadi saf karo.”

***...***...***


OCTOBER 17th, 2009

Bangalore

Day TWO

I arrest all my thoughts. I read. I read when I know I must not spend too much time over a trail of thought. One thought must lead to another. Repetition of the same thought leads to nothing. Despair. I receive messages from friends and unexpected people, whose number I do not recognize on my cell. Some messages read “Heard you quit CS. Bravo.” “You always wanted to do this for some time now. Congratulations!”. “What a way to begin on a new day. Happy Diwali”.

I continue to read Alex Haley’s Roots. Kunta’s struggle continues. His memory of the past begins to fade in time. Childhood friends blur out of vision. I drift. I continue to read.

***...***...***
OCTOBER 16th, 2009

Bangalore

Day ONE

It is Dewali. I feel a sense of relief that I do not have to think of the work that is on my plate. The endless technical authoring that no matter how hard you try to work to get it as good as you can, the corporate jargon is thrown at you from people sitting is cosy cabins with a halo of superiority.

I feel relief that now I do not have to try hard to please haloed beings who lack the fundamentals of good human beings. I feel relief that now I do not have to sheepishly smile at the contradictions I see in haloed speech.

I bury my head in my pillow. A little longer. I know I have walked out with equanimity to reclaim my connection with the world. There is a intermingling of memories – some unsavoury, little unpleasant, few absurd, but mostly fun filled, enthusiastic, vibrant criss-crosses.

I thank the halo that circled the mighty brain of grandeur. If not for that, I would not be here.

I thank my many fears – for without that burning nervousness in my naval, I will not know myself. I will not discover my being. I will not evolve.

I need to step out to meet Prasanna to discuss where and what I want to do, should I decide to join the Association of Indian’s Development. I have a rather detached meeting with him. I cannot bring my emotions to it. I am not emotionally stirred by an issue that I want to make my life’s mission. I know a part of me is dead. I need to soak up the feeling of emptiness. When that is done, my emotions will revive. I tell Prasanna, I am unsure of the areas I want to work in. May be education. May be women’s health. But it must be hard core development work. I know these are vast subjects. I am terrified. I have quit an industry, not knowing what area I want to plunge into. I tell myself, I want to explore. The most brilliant of men and women never knew what they want till they die. I cannot call myself brilliant by any means! I just know that I want to be an apprentice in the areas of development. A true apprentice learns the lessons hard. Sure. When the apprentice masters her art, she would have found her anchor.

I know my reading and awareness of the world around me are lessons of 'pre-school' that will come in handy. I will now soil my hands as I slowly and surely graduate to becoming an informed person in social issues that mean much to my world, my country.

The day has not been easy. It’s been scary. A horror movie being played in slow motion. I want tomorrow to be different. Clear. Unabated of fear.

I lay down. Close my eyes. Memories of the last few hours of walking out of the company flood me.

My diary reads: “The day I left the C Comp, I saw most people in my group and in the Toastmasters club being dewy eyed and sad that I was going – but that is the only way I would want to go. Leave behind a mark ...I have learnt from each one around me and that has made me richer...in the meanwhile, I will try and assimilate as much as I can of life...”

 

***...***...***

OCTOBER 15th, 2009

Bangalore

The Day I Walked Out of Familiar

October 15th was when the curtains fell. The days of IT were over. I came home not sure how life would play out. I had to come home. I could not linger out in the streets of dusk for long. Friends who thought I would be missed, stuck on as much as the evening had to offer. Bidding goodbye is never easy. I hold back emotions. I stay detached. I allow a thought to linger in my mind. I hold back a trace of thought to last a little longer. Then, quietly, I do not allow language to persist. I try to go blank. I enjoy the quite wind kissing my face. I be.

I have the fear of uncertainty that grips me. I am unsure if the world I am about to step in is a world I will live to enjoy. The habits of my mind cannot help to ponder over counter arguments that i must remain in the world of IT – where everything is got. Money. Money gives status. Especially for a single woman like me – it gives me my pride. It gives me the notion of success. It gives my parents the feeling that despite my choices of defiance against systems, I am comfortable in my existence.

They do not know that it is no more of comforted existence for me. Anymore. And yet, despite these brilliant arguments, I have voices of trepidation. I need to succeed. The fear of failure looms large in me.

I know that October 16th is Deewali. Tomorrow is a new day. It’s a long weekend. I tell myself, I’ll sleep till the sun burns the human skin. I drive home. I increase the volume of the pulsating music to stop my mind from oscillating between confident hope and despair. I tell myself I’ll record every day that goes past my life. Then when I am, many years hence, I can know where I was. Once.

October 15th isn’t over. Until I have come to a quite house of bookshelves and Madubani paintings. Until I try and record the events of the day. Until I have put my head delicately into my pillow. Until my eyes close. Drift. Breathe. Slowly. Awake. Sleep again. Breathe. Until the dogs in the street stop barking. Until I tell, hush...

~*~*~*~*~