Vindicated :)

A few months ago, I had put up this post which talked about a major career decision I'd made. I'd also given a pretty clear indicator of who was responsible for that choice...or rather, forced me into that choice.

The months since have not been very easy. A freelancing opportunity does give me a small yet steady cash stream, but that is no substitute for a full-time job. More importantly, it is nowhere near what I plan and hope to achieve in a career. Explaining a break like this to a prospective employer is no cakewalk. Especially since, "My boss was a jerk" as a reason does nothing to improve my chances even if it is the undiluted truth.

The sole upside is that I have reason to believe that the job quest will soon be over..... until I know for sure though, I'm gonna be keeping my fingers, toes and eyes crossed. :)

But this post wasn't meant to be about any of that.

I've had mixed reactions to the choice I made. A handful agrees with me. Most have gone on to add "bonkers" to their list of adjectives describing yours truly. There have also been folks who were kind enough to suggest that I could afford to do this since I am the spoilt only child and daughter at that of a family that's comfortably off. I use the word kind 'coz they made sure I heard those suggestions second-hand.

Such tact, such consideration...... charmed, I'm sure.

I have wondered a couple of times if I should've hung on a little longer......just for the sake of avoiding a gap on an already undistinguished CV. Interestingly, I was the first person to leave our ten-member team...... within five months of my resignation, the strength had come down to half.

Two (including yours truly) had openly stated the actual reason for leaving, and the others had made it known that the superior was the reason they looked out for alternatives. That soon became common knowledge in a 200-strong department. Now what would you expect to happen in the year-end appraisal after the team lead sets such a blistering record in less than six months?? I got to know today when I caught up with a colleague on chat.

The blithering @$$ got a promotion.

He got an effin' PROMOTION!!!

My reaction was laughter AND dismay. Did the guy have a secret 'forced attrition' target or something? Like "Sir, I have helped reduce manpower costs by driving my team insane and chasing half of them out of the organization"??? And a 50% weightage perhaps, for "Will aim to hamper productivity by yelling for no reason, calling for aimless meetings, and offloading bullcrap by the ton on any subordinate who refuses to think I'm god"???

W.r.t. those goals, I'm in a charitable mood right now...that should explain it.

I think the best phrase in modern lingo to describe my reaction can be summarized as WTF.

Strong language I know, but I think it's only fitting for a person who drove me to spew cuss words left, right, and centre within a week of starting to work for him. My bemused colleague tells me that she's rethinking her priorities now..... her idea of career progression techniques needs a complete overhaul after this y'see.

As for me.....

I'm still unemployed.

I'm still uncertain about how my future will shape up.

But I haven't felt SO DAMNED GOOD in a long, long time.

Y'see, I now know for sure that I took the right call then. Screaming bloody murder to anybody who paused for a second, and leaving the place for good. Making sure that the Dept head knew exactly why I'd quit, and telling him explicitly that being a junior is no reason to put up with narcissistic bullying.

I don't think I'd have forgiven myself if I'd stayed on, believing that the system would look after such characters, and then seen this development. The only disappointment is in some seniors who let this happen..... somehow, I'd hoped that they'd see the light. But then, I guess commercialism, careers, and corporate ladders don't work on those principles.

I know I have a lot to learn, and I'm not naive enough to think that the bad guys will always be nailed in the end. Mebbe my attitudes will also change over time.

But today, I'm happy. Happy and a wee bit satisfied too, 'coz I stood up for what I had to, and in a way, my stand's been vindicated.

And right now, that is all that matters to me.

:-)

On this day....

..well, yesterday actually, seeing that it's well past midnight..... errr, where was I???

Wait, let's have a go again at that, shall we??

It's thirteen years to the day since we came back to India for good...what a journey it was before, and what a journey it has been since.

Why thirteen? Why not ten? Or five?

I didn't have a blog then.

Zahra, you smartass.

Why not wait for the fifteen year mark?

Who knows what life holds? Really..... I can't remember ever using this line for myself, but here it is... There's no guarantee I'll be around then.

Thirteen...for starters that's precisely half a lifetime ago.

Yes, congratulations...so you've calculated my age. I'm thankful, really.... most folks think I'm a few years older.

I would like to believe that I am essentially the same person that stood on the threshold of teen-age at that time...... but the answer to that is yes and no. I hold certain views, opinions, and attitudes today that I wouldn't have thought possible for myself even two or three years ago. The thought is exhilarating and a little scary too. As far as I know, I haven't reached that stage in life where consistency is the norm than not, so maybe, just maybe, that comment was premature.

Back then, I had a very different idea of what my life would turn out to be. And today I'm nowhere near that image. Can't say I'm disappointed at how things have turned out..... but I can't help a faint shiver of disappointment either. Perhaps I'm still in love with the starry-eyed optimist I was then.

My relations with my parents have changed. Inevitable I guess. Things said in a fit of temper have a greater potential to wound now, than when the accuser was thirteen. On the flip side, dealing with each other on a one-to-one basis has its plus points. But there's no change to the sense of dismay I feel when I realize that our viewpoints on some important issues differ widely. I still haven't found a way to convey that my being accepting of more than one possibility does not mean that my fundamentals have eroded.

Therefore, I keep a part of myself locked away, neatly boxed and stowed deep inside. Telling myself that expressing my individuality's not always worth somebody else's pain. Then secretly resenting myself and them for it. And then feeling guilty as hell for even thinking that way. Then back to the slow-burn routine.

Ah, well, some battles never have an outcome do they?

Say what you will about burning bridges with abandon.... I say that can happen only when I really and truly know what I want. And that doesn't look set to happen for another thirteen years at least. :)

But there's one thing I really wish hadn't changed....something I nearly don't have the gumption to own up. I had a lot more faith in my ability to keep fighting and cock a snook at people, even when they put me down. The non-conformity is still there, but I've been having these moments when I'm almost apologetic about it..... Unthinkable. This calls for drastic action and quick.

So here we are. I don't think we have done too badly after all. Even if having the extended khandaan around has sharpened my migratory instincts of late. ;)

No comments on that one :)

Shabbat Shalom, two-day weekends and more filter kaapi to y'all.

The silver cord...

..will be severed and the golden bowl broken, the pitcher by the well shattered and the wheel by the fountain crushed.*

That each one of us will keep our appointment with the Maker is a given, and my grandfather honoured his tryst a couple of weeks ago.

Appachen was my last surviving grandparent. Since his passing I've had this growing certainty that a chapter has been firmly closed despite my efforts to resist it. A sense that one of the last links to my childhood has been severed...... A permanent change in the way I view my maternal home and surroundings. In all honesty, it's not just the loss of a person that I'm grieving, but the loss of a way of life, of stability as I knew it.

It's at times like these that you realise how much a person can dominate a home without even raising his voice or moving around much. At 83, 'sprightly' was hardly the word that I'd have used to describe Appachen, but his mind was clear, his thinking sharp, and his opinions as firm as they'd always been. I can't recall ever having entered Amma's home in Kerala without a grandparent around, so current circumstances will take some getting used to.

It's hard to walk past his room without the customary peek to see if he's awake or sleeping. I found myself pulling an extra chair into the living room the other day, despite a vacant seat...... the empty one is Appachen's armchair, y'see. I can still hear his voice when the family sings hymns for the evening prayer..... I know where he would've paused, in every line of every song that we've sung together. Hesitating a moment before starting the Lord's prayer, waiting for him to lead, as he always did. Keeping an ear cocked for the tap-pause-tap rhythm of the cane he used in his last year.

I had only known this extraordinary man as my Appachen first. The 'Matthews' of his acquaintances and peers introduced himself later. A breakaway from his agricultural roots, he had plunged into the world of business and shipping in the Middle East at a time when 'Persia' was still an exotic mystery to most Malayalees, leave alone Indians. :) Perhaps I should also mention that he was only 23 at the time.

The career took off brilliantly, and he was still seeking new frontiers at a time when most men begin to think of retirement and their twilight years. I still don't think I can fully comprehend the impact this one man has had on the livelihoods and careers of many hundreds of people; his legacy is immense. Appachen was one of the very few men I knew who openly credited a supportive and capable wife for his successes. When Ammachy died close to a decade ago, the flame dimmed and sputtered considerably. I could see that her passing had wounded him deeply, but it did register somewhere in my 16-year-old mind that a woman who could claim that kind of devotion was a rare and lucky one indeed.

You might be tempted to categorize this post as the tribute of a favourite grandchild, but I do not think that would be correct. Appachen had enough old-school chauvinism in him to make it subtly but definitely known that his grandsons gave him a little more joy than his granddaughters. :) We girls can't really complain that we lacked anything, even though I would have liked for him to be a little more demonstrative. His pride in our achievements was unbounded though..... education and a career were must-haves for boys and girls alike.

Looking back, I think the major source of my pride-tinged resentment was the fact that I never got the 'grandchild' treatment as much as his other grandkids did. Even when I was as young as ten or twelve, we did have some very mature conversations on life, peers, and family. Perhaps I should be glad that he saw it fit to treat me as an equal sometimes. But another little voice in my head insists that equals are all around, but only he could've been a grandfather to me.

Make no mistake, there was no lack of love or respect on either side. We did have our share of fun and games, as well as dorky stories that my Ammachy considered highly unsuitable for young ladies of genteel breeding :) The chorichu-malle game was my prerogative with Appachen, and many a family car ride was swept along in gales of laughter and hooting. For those of you who're wondering what I'm talking about, take any two words (a name for instance) and interchange the first syllables. The resulting phrase can range from ho-hum to hysteria-inducing stuff. Eg: Muthoot Bankers would become Bathoot Moonkers.... get it?

I told you it was crazy :D

Appachen's laughter at such times is crystal clear in my memory..... a very gravelly and deep, slightly raspy "Ha ha haaaa" followed by a silent chuckle.....and a smile that lingered long after. Strangely enough, that was the sound that came to mind when I heard the damp gravel roll across the lid of his coffin, after we'd laid him in the grave. The way he'd laughed when we teased him and Ammachy for getting married on a 14th February, all those years ago before Valentine's Day was even heard of in India.

I had mentioned a sense of stability earlier, a feeling of being moored firmly, which I now lack. When he was alive, I viewed the protection of Appachen's love for his family as being similar to what I felt for my home:

No matter which corner of the world I'm in, it is there.

I know it is strong. I believe nothing can shake it.

Once inside, I am safe.

Needless to say, I now keep trying to pull the frayed ends of that loop closer together in any way I can. There are brief moments of respite. The smile that is forced to my lips when I see the photo of me and my brothers furtively eyeing Appachen's birthday cake, while he solemnly smiles for the camera. Running my hand along the armrests of his favourite chair, where the polish has worn off from years of use. The inexplicable comfort of seeing his battered Bible and spectacles on the bedside table. The cluttered desk which makes me feel that he's just around the corner.

Which he is. Someday I'll lift that curtain and join him there.

Until then Appacha, you'll be sorely missed.

R.I.P.




*The reference is to Ecclesiastes 12:6 in the Bible, which is widely used to illustrate death in the context of Christianity. Simply put, death is viewed as a cutting of the cord that binds us to earth, allowing us to go back to our home with the Father.