Lessons Learnt the Hard Way

She sat still for a bit, slightly anxious, on a bench near the gate. Every now and then she would look towards the watchman for a sign that her car had arrived to pick her up. I sat by her, observing her innocence, her determined chin and wisps of hair that waved in the soft gushes of wind, for it was an unusually pleasant afternoon. She looked at me apologetically, her face flushed slightly as she uttered how sorry she was that I had to wait because of her. 'How ridiculous', I thought, shaking my head slightly. Out aloud I said, 'I wouldn't want my daughter to be left alone under such circumstances, how can I leave you?' She smiled, and turned to look at the gate, failing to notice the tears well up in my eyes, for she even looked like my eldest. I toyed with my cell phone, after all, no young teen would engage in friendly banter with a high school teacher, it was just not done. As I was lost in a chain of thoughts that was stirred up by the thought of m

Over the course of one's career, there will obviously be several new places of employment to deal with. Changing jobs can be immensely stressful. The unknown is often associated with fear. The not knowing what kind of a person your boss and colleagues are, being the newbie in what appears to be a close knit working environment and a tonne of other factors contribute to the tension. However, if you have changed jobs, it's because a certain set of circumstances came to be that led to that decision. If you were pro-active enough to address those circumstances, chances are you have what it takes to make it at the new work place. It has always been my firm belief in both my personal and professional life, that there should be boundaries, there should be limits and when they begin to be crossed blatantly again and again, change needs to happen. That's how people transition from mediocrity into greatness. People take their mistakes and turn them into learning opportunities.

'Did you hear the news?' 'Oh man, no news is good news, what news are you talking about?' 'It's all over Facebook! Where are you?' It's been a couple of days since the news of Junaid Jamshed, Pakistani icon and larger than life personality tragically passed away in a plane crash, with about 40 other souls on board including his second wife. I had been recuperating from a somewhat serious infection that had left me bed ridden and canula-clad for three days. Being incapacitated in that way had led me to believe on several occasions that I mayn't make it. I did, I made it, but Junaid Jamshed- did not. While in hospital, the emergency room always gives me some much needed clarity on my fragile existence. There was for instance, one old lady frantically fighting for breath. The plethora of medications had not aided her in ease of breath, whilst another young man yelled out in pain for anything to take away his misery.

It's just that plain old 'love', 'darling' and 'honey' are such cliches, that they just don't cut it as far as I am concerned. I think making someone feel loved and appreciated can only primarily be done through conscious effort, whether the mode is uttering some phrases or through subtle yet thoughtful gestures. So far as speaking is concerned... It's stuff like, " You don't eat apples, you should eat apples" coming from an otherwise more or less gruff elderly parent, to a very grown up child that really hits the mark; words that don't seem like much, but the love and concern touches a weary soul. "Today the poor thing had such a high fever and her brother also fell and now has a huge bump on his head, jee I wish you were here." Such a simple sentence, but so eloquent in its meaning; words perhaps, that would put 'I love you' to shame. "Teacher, we have English and you're late, please come."

Trauma usually brings clarity, a profound change in vision, but for me, perhaps what it brought, above all else was self-actualization. I'm no Einstein or Mother Teresa, far from it. But for years and years, I perceived myself to be less than ordinary, mundane, small, insignificant and even defected. It was not until I broke away from the meticulous intricate chains of extreme fear and the terrifying prospect of a life without my children, that I gradually realized, through the support of my family, friends and colleagues, that I was not all the things I had made my reality out to be. Then came the self-pity and frustration. How could I have been so naive? How could I have spent a decade and a half being slowly sucked out of my humanity and reduced to a mere desperate shell of myself? Then came the aha moment... had it not been for this nightmarish time in my life, I would not be here right now, typing away, being me, the real me, raw, up close and not afraid. So the cos

Four months! That's how long it's been since I have written a post here. Any excuse I make about my busy routine would be lame, so I won't. Upon deep reflection, I can safely say that the true reason is quite simple. This blog is a haven where I bear my soul for all to read, for all to feel what I feel with every fibre of my being. It is the humble platform where I hope to contribute my two cents into, perhaps, making this world a better place.  Having said that, the writing comes with a tremendous amount of emotion. Emotions that are hard to cope with. They swirl around me in an aura, a mixture of all the primal, gut-wrenching, ecstatic, overwhelming sentiments that are the symphony that life is composed off. Hence, coming here to connect, perhaps to reach you, to touch the inner recesses of your heart, that is a difficult feat indeed that I do so hope to accomplish. Fast approaching the big "40", the age which is synonymous with finally attaining s

I don't get it. Every which way I turn, mostly what I hear are judgmental, condescending remarks. Mostly. A lady passing by from under my window speaking on her phone: You should have seen her- she looked hideous and thought she looked so nice. Lady talking to a shop keeper: Everything in your shop is old and over-priced. Who do you think you are... and then some explicit language I can't get myself to repeat. In the waiting lounge of a hospital two nurses wail about their boss: He's such a rotten man, thinks he rules the world. YES YES and YES! She might have been looking terrible, but she obviously thought she looked divine! What harm is she doing to you? Let her have her couple of hours of glory. The guy might be selling expired products at an exuberant rate, so why come to his shop in the first place when there are ten more on the street? So the doctor makes them work on tight schedules, but then isn't it even remotely possible that his work ethic will ul

"If only"... the two only two words that hold the power to destroy the most powerful of people. True power comes from the excision of these demonic words from our vocabulary. It's been more than a year since I began this blog, and I've come a long way. Although I have miles and miles to go, I can proudly say that the aforementioned dreaded words have never once sneaked up on me and I'll tell you why...

" I pray for your happiness, " said a friend of mine. It was subtle, yet profound. She didn't mean I was unhappy. Only that she knew my journey to have been a tumultuous one. But surely as the winds of a storm that thunder on leaving only destruction in their wake ultimately die down to a serene calm, so does the grief and pain that claws and scratches at your heart. When you come out the other side, like I believe myself to have done, something changes. And it's glorious. It's liberating, it's empowering and it's absolutely impenetrable. And so I thought, am I happy? I don't know. Here is what I do know:

What if time travel actually did exist? What if you could actually send your immature, silly, younger self a letter, knowing what you know now- today? What nuggets of advice would you drop into your lap? What would you do differently? Would you even heed your own wisdom? Because one of the follies of youth involve not taking anything 'wise' very seriously at all. But if it were so... I know I have no regrets, none at all. I know despite this imagined time travelling capability, my fate was written and I also know until there is breath in me, my story will continue to unfold as it has been pre-written. All I have to do is live it with faith and give it my very best that it should not be a colossal waste of the earth's resources. God knows there are plenty of soul sucking, poor excuse of human beings out there, and I do not intend to be one of them. Again, if I could though, a letter to my younger self would go something like this...