17 D: Lessons of life!

The stench of fish is slowly nauseating me, I can feel sweat trickling down my body but I use my arm pit to snuff out the concoction of aroma conjured by a mix of jasmine flower and irksome body odour that is fast circulating around me. I am struggling not to sway too much in the direction of the man with a big umbrella, gazing nastily at me, his evil agenda too obvious in his un-empathetic eyes. Big mad women shove and push me, and deny me of a place to give my feet a rest from the constant stamping. I hear conversations being carried out in a strange tongue between the driver and the passenger in the last seat, I hear conversations between people seated next to each other; both have the same effect on me as both are being produced by the strongest lungs I have ever come across, hinting the symptoms of a fast developing headache. And now I think to myself : “First thing I will do tomo is get a car loan and get myself a good air conditioned car! I am done with commuting by public transport!!!!”

And then within a couple of seconds I spot an empty seat ahead of me and before the message is relayed from my eyes to my brain to trigger some reaction from my limbs, I see a huge figure lurching towards it with full zeal as though it is the last drop of water in a scorching desert or maybe even the last man left on earth! and within a blink of my eyelid, I feel a solid shove. By the time my reactive mechanism takes in what happened I look back to see this woman with her legs wide apart sporting a gratified smile and occupying ‘MY’ seat!!!! I cursed my reflexes and stared ahead with the same feeling that the Red Indians must have felt when Christopher Colombus ‘found’ the Americas!!! And then I made a vow to myself, the next time I spot an empty seat I am going to jump into it no matter who I stamp, who I shove, who I kill!

Minutes pass by, the conductor is on a mission to shout at every single person who doesn’t hand out exact change to him. If you ever have to use public transport in Chennai remember that not having exact change is a criminal offence, if u ever hand out a crisp 100rs note it amounts to third degree murder and the sentence will be nothing less than capital punishment. The conductor is at his best today, his monologue drifts through the hundreds of point less dialogues taking place in the bus, through the clanking of pots and vessels onboard the 17d, giving my headache even more reason to worsen.

At that moment, through the corner of my eye I see a lady seated near me making moves suggesting that she will get out in the next stop( now noticing these moves doesn’t require any intellectual training, it can be easily captured from a single line emanating in the strange yet familiar tongue: “konjam thallungo” followed by a subsequent push and shove of standing passengers – all subtle nuances of an emerging opportunity to rest my by then swollen toes!). I slip into the seat by some miracle as soon as the woman is out, though it required a self acquired art of clenching all modes of entry to the seat, namely the seat handles with all my might and not letting anyone trespass that small line of control made that very second by my shoulder blades and arms.

So I sit and heave a huge sigh of relief and begin my hobby of observing people and seeing what they do. First I see a young woman who could be no older than 25 with two kids straddled onto her torso and another three hugging her by the stomach. I watch her holding her kin close to her and with delectable grace hand out exact change to the conductor saying , “naalu ticket, govt hospital”. I wonder why she was heading to the hospital, was she a maid there? Or maybe she lived somewhere there.. hmmm or maybe she has an appointment there,… But whatever be the reason for her choice of destination what prolonged in my mind was a resenting afterthought.

While I had been struggling not to sway in all possible directions while the bus followed the twists and curves of the driver’s appalling navigational skills, here was this woman taking care of herself as well as another five in such a natural and composed demeanor with no sign of irritation or frustration. In the couple of seconds that the bus followed a straight path and did not cause any of the passengers to do a peculiar ‘aasana’, she checked on her brood and their temperatures, giving away the reason of the hospital visit which maybe couldn’t wait till the next day. She did not show any sign of discomfort, she did not even notice the man with the big umbrella, she cared even less for the hundreds of deafening conversations that was being relayed. All she cared for was her children and their safety and to reach the hospital. Seeing their slipper-less feet and ragged clothes, a thought lingered in my mind, maybe this bus ride itself is a luxury for her. Maybe she was carrying two over grown children on her love handles out of necessity to spare two tickets!

Watching her grace and composure I felt ashamed to have complained so much I realized there was something here I could learn from her. Maybe the reason of my tryst with public transport and it’s evils is part of the super power’s mega plan to teach me a moral lesson that I failed to capture in its complete essence in the last 24 odd years of my existence: humility .

The bus then stopped at a traffic signal, taking more than 15 minutes to crawl ahead, and then rumbled on in a promising speed for a full 10 minutes raising my hopes of getting home sooner only to get caught at the same signal, twice!! Again, the temptation of the luxury of a car came to my mind, I thought, I should have just studied harder and gotten myself a job that paid more so that I could afford a car. But humility triumphed and scorned at my selfish thought and I just sat and smiled thinking I am a better person today having understood a meaningful value in life…

Sadly, the crucial lesson about humility died an instant death when the lady sitting beside raised her right butt cheek (can be read as a full water balloon) a bit and confidently released a solid amount of a gaseous substance that smelt worse than sulphur dioxide! She effortlessly managed to suffocate me and so naively she sat as thought toxic gas release is as trivial as a sneeze! I see my stop approaching, I use my duppatta to save my lungs from choking on the odour of the lady’s indigested lunch and get into wrestling mode to wiggle my way out of a bus full of hardworking or maybe just extra sweat producing men and women, trying my best to make sure I do get out at my stop.

After getting pushed out of the bus, I look back and see the board again 17 D – KK nagar to Broadway (my daily patience testing, frustrating, filthy means of getting to and fro office), I also see the fifteen people hanging by the door and even by the window and I resume my daily cursing of public transport in Chennai.

Humility by now was looking down at me from heaven, heaving a huge sigh…

a dream job...

the time is 2:37 p.m on a sultry afternoon spent in an air conditioned office cubicle. Right after lunch, i find my eyes in a hurry to sleep in a pace that matches the speeds at which i often ran to class in my college days,being late as usual. Looking back now i think much has not changed. I do not talk of politics, economy, sport or entertainment when i say nothing much has changed, for indeed much has changed in those arenas. From an afro american half-muslim taking the reigns of the United States ( Martin Luther king's dream is slowly being realised!), to the collaboration of sports and entertainment to create the IPL ( International Paisa Loot), much has indeed changed, much has indeed been transformed. Well change in its true glory has not entered my life in the past 7 years. Of course there have been minor indications of ageing, false alarms of wisdom and maturity, as well as the transition in environment (school to college to work to college to work again). But on the onset, when i examine change as a whole and attempt to explore critical changes in the last 7 years, the ever active part of my brain, namely the logical reasoning department, urges me to discover the traces of a structure that appears to be a heptagon. I started at one point, took various turns at various crossroads for specific intervals, in pursuit of something better and bigger that would finally answer the ever pressing question: "What am i supposed to be doing?". Irresolutely leaving the benefits of a premeditated trajectory, I took faith in the not so promising prospects of the 'happy go lucky' phenomenon and let nature (includes plants, animals, microbes and man) and the supernatural cosmic powers lead me to supposed greener pastures, higher up the learning curve.

With loyalty never fading, determined to find the reason for my being, here i am having traversed diverse paths, having met two distinct classes of people: inspiringly interesting as well as annoyingly uninteresting, to be jolted awake to be informed that my 'final' destination has arrived. I open my eyes in sheer enthusiasm only to find the ever so familiar billboard, "WELCOME 'BACK' TO SQUARE ONE'. Ah, well there has been a change after all, the 'back' has been added to the billboard in the course of my journey.So from just a higher secondary certificate,to a degree in management, a years experience of monarchy and its perils and two years of post graduational bliss,having commenced each one with the hope that, now this will tell me clearly what i am good at and what i'm intended to do; here i am in the first year of my professional career as a content resource, doing what i always loved from when i was just 6 years old: writing!

Well the answer was always there,it was so evident that the one thing that i could do was write, it could be a silly poem for my dad's birthday, my first book- the rixies in sixth grade( which was highly suspected of violating Enid Blyton's copyrights) but not guilty until proved as the law of the land states :) ) or my virtual log of passing thoughts and whimsical poetry! I enjoyed writing and now onboard the global content management team of a reputed IT company, i still enjoy writing!. But never did i know that doing what you loved was what what you are supposed to be doing. I always thought that doing what you love is your hobby and doing what you have to do is your job!And this delightful revelation that "writing" is what i am supposed to be doing made me realise that from when i was a kid i knew what i was supposed to be doing, but i never took it seriously,i downplayed my passion for writing, suppressed it and somehow it survived neglect for ages only to live out my destiny.

Many a times we give up on what we love doing, we cast our glances away from frequent reminders our heart throws at us, being stubbornly sure that we do not know best and set out on our search to find out what we are supposed to be doing. We while away years in this quest, productively if luck favours us and keep searching only to find our hearts echoing our passion. We choose to not hear and seek again, in different avenues, in different people, in different geographies only to realise that we have been searching with our eyes blindfolded. If only we took off the blindfold and re-affirmed our faith in our selves and our potential, if only we understood that a great change or metamorphosis is not essential to realize the scope of our lives (or self-actualization as Mr. Abraham Maslow calls it- could not help showing off some of my MBA jargons. I did pay a pretty big sum to learn them!).  

All that we need to really do is listen to our hears, time will only tell us what our hearts have been telling us all the while! :)