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Mum often laughingly remembers my antics in high school. One of her most frequent recollections is of me at primary school – a little pigtailed, brat of a girl – guileless and brimming with curiosity and enthusiasm. I loved school. Everyone was friendly and approachable. I remember boldly walking into the principal’s office every day, to have my water bottle opened. Mum was horrified when she learnt that the head of my alma mater was responsible for my daily drink of water. When she sat me down for a chat, I explained to her that Sister Sumitra did not mind – she was ‘the most beautiful lady’ at school.
Are you wondering what the point of this story is? Well nothing really – except that most grown ups would describe Sister Sumitra as a plump, dark-skinned nun, with no sign of physical beauty. But she had an aura of serenity and love that enveloped her – and the people she interacted with. I was in love with her beauty, all my school girl life.
When I was in college, I met Prakash. He was my Math tutor at a special Math class I undertook in my spare time. With long, flowing gray hair, bare feet, two pairs of clothes and a simple unassuming air – he was the academic personified. He cared little for worldly pleasures – everything faded before a complex calculation based on the Fibonacci series. He would teach us in the light of a huge candle when power cuts were a common feature in Pune summers. Everyone laughed at his mania, although respecting his commitment as well. I was in love with him. He had a passion, a philosophy, a reason for living – and no care for anyone else. I was in love with his slender long fingers, his gentle grey eyes and warm smile. I could never bring myself to go back and meet him, when I chose to abandon science as a profession.
At ITC, I met Vishrut – my best friend ever. He is the ugliest creature on this side of the milky-way. Short, dark, brutish, with flared nostrils, a truly horrid dressing sense and an absolute love for drab colours – he was scarcely a treat for the eyes. But he had about him, a sense of ease, confidence and understanding that drew people to him like a magnet. An incurable flirt – somehow, Vishrut always managed to have the prettiest girl on his arm at any party. I loved him – for his support, understanding and friendship. Recently, a friend who was going through my old photographs exclaimed at the sheer ugliness of Vishrut – and I could only laugh. If only she met him in person, she would eat her words.
As I have grown older, many of my friends have chased the illusive all-American dream of a perky, slim body, sharp features, crisp clothes and a sense of style. They do help, to enhance the physical self. But somehow, the person you are seems to shine through with great clarity, irrespective. Eye candy is just that – it can never be mistaken for food for the soul!
Maybe that is why, I suddenly receive so many compliments about aesthetic appeal, since I got to Brisbane – spiritual mindfullness has to manifest itself somehow.
Maybe if we all thought like this, we’d have a hoard of irate fashion and beauty specialists – or maybe I say this because I’m just an average, plump Indian girl!
That Kym and P are like family to me in Brisbane, is an oft repeated theme in my blog. Like the presence of a spectre that is never really acknowledged but instead merely remains experienced, this thought has gone unrecognised for a long time. Today however, faced with a difficult decision – the realisation dawned on me, that it is indeed very hard to remain objective with your closest friends.
It has been a long and demanding month for us. I have officially christened this the ‘Assignment Sem’ – what with every unit (subject) demanding a minimum of three group assignments. Further, at work, as I evolved into my new (and much more demanding) role, I often found myself a little too thinly spread out – leaving little or no room for manoeuvring. Add to this an extreme academic focus – being on a student loan makes you bring your academics to the highest priority – I had better make it worthwhile – I am to spend the next couple of years paying off my study costs.
Having such a demanding schedule is not alien to me – any hotelier worth his salt, is a sleep-deprived, caffeine-spiked, pressure-prompted and socially inept performer. However it does not allow me to hold on to too many social and family commitments. When you are constantly chasing your tail, you grimace, every time a friend or family member puts a demand on time you just don’t have. Little wonder then, that after five years of long working, I found my life unfulfilling and empty. I was determined not to allow my stint in Brisbane to continue in the same spirit. I chose to fill my life with people and activities that I found enriching. My writing has been witness to all the fun and joy it has brought to my life. But strangely, every two steps forward seems to be accompanied by a step back.
Kym has recently been riding the roller coaster of exhaustion and ill health. Unfortunately, pending deadlines at university made it impossible for me to relieve her. P was unable to do too much either, as he has been working at a frenetic pace as well. And so, when I received a call on Monday, requesting if at all I could cover her times at work, I had to decline – albeit with a sinking heart. With no one else as a backup, we had to leave work uncovered. Things proceeded at a bumpy pace – with P, D and J all lending a helping hand. That evening, I attended the class that I had dug my heels into the ground to be present for – but my heart was not in it.
The mind passes the harshest self judgement of all. I felt guilty, ashamed and completely inept as a good friend. I had let down the people I cared most for in Brisbane. As I berated myself helplessly for my choices, I also realised that I would have been very upset, had I missed class. I felt deeply unhappy and angry at myself – for being unable to clearly define my boundaries. Where did friendship end and a professional relationship begin? Contemplative and gloomy, I started my solo walk across the windy bridge to a cold station. Suddenly, I longed for the simplicity and anonymity of a job at a service station or a fast food joint.
The vibration of my ringing cell phone shook me out of my reverie. It was P. Perhaps he needed to pass some message to me. Sighing, I picked up the phone and waited for his disappointment to wash over me.
“Good evening Shrooooottteee”, he sang out cheerily. Gosh, I felt like the world was coming to an end, how could he be that cheerful?
“Hi P. How did it go?” I responded lamely.
“Oh it was all fun and games. But we survived and the office is still standing”.
This was my moment to apologise, for letting him and Kym down. But I stayed silent, not knowing how to begin. He did not seem to mind, but carried on cheerfully.
“Yeah, I thought you might need a little chat, and so I called you. I hope you had a good class”.
My heart sank – P was going to tell me how I let him down.
“It was ok P. I kept worrying about Kym and you.”
“But you should not. Shroootteeee, I understand that you are a focussed person. You lend that same focus to work when you are here; it is completely understandable that you will do the same when you are in class”.
“But P”, I began haltingly. “I should know when to choose work and when to choose friends. I let you guys down. I can’t seem to distinguish boundaries”.
“In fact, you did fine. Shroootteee there is no need to be upset about your choices. This is what you have come here to do. Instead, why don’t we have a meeting tomorrow and see how we can help Kym get some rest”.
“But – are you not disappointed?”
“Why should I be disappointed?” he asked. “Frustrated maybe – in that moment, about the lack of a back-up plan. But never disappointed Shrootteee. I care for both you girls. We shall come up with something tomorrow. We are a family. Don’t worry”.
Maybe you will understand when I say, that I was touched beyond comprehension when I put down the phone. It is a relief to know that you can actually resolve a situation with your friends and not have to run away. It is also a revelation to realise that your closest friends and family will never berate you for your choices – because these choices make you the person you are.
- You are on a perpetual caffeine – induced high.
- You near a waste paper basket, empty coffee cup in one hand, and a bunch of working papers in the other, and bin the papers accidentally.
- You try to meet fast-approaching deadlines, by working furiously – in your sleep!
- You experience severe guilt at enjoying the train journey home – it really ought to be spent more productively!
- Your male group member helps to remind you in which pocket of your purse you kept your mascara the last time.
- Your lecturer takes pity on your over heated brain and sends you home – in the middle of a class.
- You catch coffee with a girl friend from work at a café – in take away cups – and think nothing of it, till you catch the café attendant sniggering.
- You have spells of laughter-inducing, spontaneous, helpless, gibberish-spouting – when your tongue twists, warps and slips Freudian-ly over the simplest of words and phrases.
- Your typing speed accelerates to match the speed of light, and your brain decelerates to compete with the speed of a snail.
- You await an oncoming bout of the flu with scarcely suppressed glee and anticipation – you may even get to sleep in!
- People stop complaining about the level of out-datedness of your blog.
- Family and friends thank you when you answer their thirty-seventh call.
- You see spots every time you look away from your computer screen.
- You start this list of indications of overwork…. And it shows no signs of finishing up!
Sigh!
Strangely though, I’d rather be here and now, than be anywhere else in the world! Now there’s a thought!
I have a subject that is titled Treasury Management. When I enrolled for it, the very name scared me. But I rationalised, since time has shown that in Finance, things sound more complicated than they actually are. Unfortunately, Treasury, was soon to become the one exception that proved the rule.
Things started out deceptively simple. We formed a little group of three girls, got handed out a spreadsheet of information and a little brief about pretend market conditions. This was a game – from the brief, we had to forecast interest rates and strategize the cheapest way to raise money for our fictional clients. The game had four quarters… every quarter had a performance report that tracked and evaluated our strategies.
Quarter One: Every one in the class was lost. We looked at each other in vague confusion, as the lecturer spewed technical jargon that may well have been in Latin, for all the sense it made to us. We were taken over by sheer herd mentality, agreeing on a class strategy, rather than individual strategy. Unfortunately we got it wrong. But we ALL got it wrong, and were rather merry about our mutual under-performance.
Quarter Two: People had started to feel their way through, with some level of confidence. The competitive spirit set in, and groups discussed strategies in hushed tones, with an air of secrecy. As the game picked up a feverish pace, one of the girls in the group dropped out. Like a wounded soldier, we were down, but not out. Our strategy however was way out. Quite contrasting from every one else in class, who I might add, made good pretend money. We under performed stably.
Quarter Three: Determined to snuff out the sniggers from our boyish lecturer, we debated our strategies long and hard. After booking our deals, we compared notes with the other teams and were triumphant to note that our strategies were in line with the ace team in the class. Our performance however was not. It was to transpire that a quarter ago, we had used an instrument called a swap, that had actually reversed the effect of our strategy and we had lost money – again.
Quarter Four: My team member was resigned to our fate. I however was determined to try some out of the box thinking. We handed in our reports with nervous anticipation. This quarter, we actually made a profit. But unusually high transaction costs took care of that one – putting us in a losing position once more.
Oh, well – at least I displayed remarkable consistency… I consistently lost money! Now all I need to do is to make sure that none of the clients of my future investment firm actually read my blog!
For a very long time – since my early teens, I always rejected the idea of black and white. There could be no clear lines, I rationalized – instead, everything was in shades of grey. No right, no wrong, no good and no bad. I saw the bad in all good and perceived the good in all bad. I was living the balanced life or the yin yang. Unfortunately, my parents and other authority figures did not share my opinion in such matters.
While for me, there was a thin red line that separated what was acceptable, from what was not – mum and dad always advocated the concept of right and wrong. Falling in line with such concepts can be especially hard when you are a teenager, and you feel an overwhelming urge to spread your wings, assert yourself and shed any misunderstood emotions that you are experiencing.
And so, I travelled through my teens and early adulthood, just about toeing the line – on the verge of rebellion, and yet not quite. Life was all about experiences – trying everything once, before deciding what worked, and what actually did not. Strangely, I was let loose and unhinged – free falling and exploring my experiences.
Grey was the colour of my universe – where rules blurred and perception changed everything. Where decisions could uplift or hurt, and yet they were independently made. Where temptations dropped by ever so often, and were meant to be given right into. Where your actions were meant to be looked down upon, eyebrows disappearing into receding hairlines and upper lips stiffened in disapproval. Grey was a beautiful colour – its beauty not immediately apparent.
And yet, as time has gone by, realisation has dawned. I have had fun, explored, played and lived. Hurt and hurting, I have always returned to the comforting cocoon of my family and friends – the very cocoon that I have rejected, time and again. The very same warm embrace, that has let me go, only to watch me play games and stumble and fall, without once objecting. Its strange how much I learn, when I am let go. Its unusual how when the strings are untied, I stop pulling, and come straight back.
Like grains of sand, I stayed in the fist that stopped clutching. And so now I stand, weathered, yet strong, independent and yet supported – and there is no grey in my world. Only black and white.
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