In my usual headlong and heedless fashion, I've managed to convey an impression far from what I was feeling. Yesterday's post was all about how I was in a difficult position - and looking back, I am appalled and ashamed that that was the thought uppermost in my mind.
I have spent a nerve-racking day, trying to figure how to tackle a difficult situation. The situation is NOT of my making, and yet I have the most to lose by it. However, for the sake of everyone involved I can't talk about said situation here. All I can talk about is why I am currently so close to tears.
Believe me, any recriminations that anyone else has to offer regarding posting to the blog can wait in line behind me - I have gazed mournfully at my blog once or twice in the last month, but I think about updating every single day. I have loads to tell the dear blog frankly, and I don't want to let it go like I have ever other time that life has managed to overwhelm me.
Last night I decided that today needed to be a new start. I had gotten into the habit of sleeping very late, getting up mid-morning (at 8) and therefore getting into work really late. As a natural consequence, I have started staying in the office till 8 - by which time it is crawling with lizards, and my nerves are frayed to breaking point. So I decided to get up early, so I went to bed at 10:30 last night.
Best. Decision. Ever.
I woke up, bright and shiny, only to realise that I needed to let the dog out before I could water the terrace plants. I padded down to the parents' room, and saw one small black nose emerging from under a pile of blankets. Quelle surprise.
I prodded. Poked. Hissed. Whispered. Shook. All to no avail - she didn't even open her eyes. I shall but glance briefly on the sonorous yet rhythmic noise emanating from her throat. The pain jsut wasn't waking up.
Finally I ripped the blankets off her, only to be rewarded with the flicker of opening eyelids and the blissful cessation of afore-mentioned noise - which was promptly replaced with a warning growl.
To which I raised an eyebrow, and lugged her off the bed. And dumped her (carefully) on the floor. And grinned.
Hustled a protesting cocker spaniel up two flights of stairs and ushered her out into the dewy morning outside.
Take that, dog, for waking me up at the odd hours of morning just to be let out, and then do nothing while I sleepily prop myself against the door-jamb. The number of times I have hauled my butt out of my cosy bed to lift her sorry bottom onto my bed, only to have her curl up on the very spot I have just vacated, because it is the warmest. The innumerable occasions where I have woken because a freezing nose was shoved into my neck, demanding cuddles and covers - and then subsequently reawakening shivering, only to realise the dog has appropriated all the blankets and I am left with nary a stitch of blanket.
Revenge is sweet.
Yesterday I had a great conversation with the mother and the aunt, reminiscing about our life back in Dubai. For those people who are new here (Hello! *waves*), I spent the first 19 years of my life out of India. Since that post, I have moved to Goa, gotten a full-time job at a newspaper and well, split up with the boyfriend I was CONVINCED I was going to marry.
February was crazy, and the worst part is that I can't remember a thing of importance that happened. I just remember rushing back and forth from work and home, getting chores done in the market and that's about it.
My mother very kindly calls me an emotional garbage bin because people find it easy to confide in me. Previously I used absorb their emotions, and feel equally high or low (as the case may be) as a result.
Not so any longer. To retain a shred of sanity, it behooves me to maintain an emotional buffer. That doesn’t mean I am not empathetic, but it does mean I manage to stay sane.
Which is why at work I have refrained from becoming pals with the people here. Not that I don’t like them, but I am wary of forging friendships that may go awry. (And with my track record of friends? They WILL go awry.) So I am pleasant to everyone; I laugh, chat and joke; I even meet them outside office occasionally; but to none of them to I actually confide. Therefore the relationship remains friendly-professional (much like smart-casual).
Which is why I was so surprised with what happened yesterday.
I was watching my team executing some work. I happened to pass an offhand comment about how chilly it was because of the air-conditioning. They agreed and the discussion veered towards something else.
One of the designers was looking for images on the Internet, and she suddenly thrust her fingers into my hand and remarked, “See how cold my fingers are!”
I rather bemusedly agreed, because as a team we were not given to sudden displays like that. (Remember the status quo I mentioned before? Yeah.) As soon as she took her hand out of mine, another team member held my hand and proclaimed how cold her hands were as well.
It was unexpected, but spontaneous and really lovely. It made me smile. And then it struck me that these girls treat me as some sort of mother hen. They come into my office at a drop of a hat, and for the most ridiculous of reasons. I certainly don’t mind, but it does surprise me.
Why? Because I am only a year older than one, and 2 years older than the other.
With all the disasters happening around the world, I have encountered a number of people who question my unflinching faith in God – “How can you believe in an Almighty who has the power to stop this kind of suffering, but does not wield it?”
My answer is simple: “Easily.”
It wasn’t always that pat though; what I believe today is a conclusion arrived at after much deliberation, reading, counseling from masters and gurus, and finally understanding a fragment of Hindu philosophy.
In my religion, the soul is considered to be pure. It has one goal, and that is to realize that there is really no concept of duality and to merge with the infinite divine. The soul has a learning curve that is analogous to our schooling here on Earth, and a soul’s classes become lifetimes. However, unlike the arbitrary regimen put upon children, a soul is able to chart out their lessons in a lifetime, and accordingly sets up situations to help him along the way. These situations are like examinations, and passing them successfully indicates a lesson well-learnt.
Consider a thought – there are many times when I have felt faced with the same situation over and over again, albeit with different characters and places. Until I changed my reaction to these situations, I found myself encountering them again and again and again. Once I dealt with said situation from a position of strength, they never arose again. The lesson was evidently learnt.
Therefore I have no trouble in believing in God, nor in his encompassing love. One of my biggest lessons is to be careful when wishing – in my experience, if something is in your best interest, it will happen regardless of wishes. I have had wishes granted, only to regret ever asking for them.
I love my job (not the working culture, the nincompoops I deal with or the lack of process - but the actual JOB) but I do look forward to the occasional day off. I say 'occasional' because I rarely get a Sunday completely to myself at home, regardless of good intentions.
Today started off on an awesome note, and I really hope the awesomeness continues into the day/week/month/year.
1. Got up late this morning. (8:45 am, in case anyone was wondering)
2. Crawled out of bed and padded my way two flights of stairs, to see mom still cuddled up under the covers with the cocker spaniel and dad just disappearing into the bathroom. Mom was complaining bitterly that he woke up and therefore she now feels guilty about lolling around. I, of course, felt no such guilt and promptly jumped into my dad's spot for a quick snooze. Bliss.
3. Cocker spaniel had other plans, and therefore decided that since my face was accessible to her, she must give it a thorough washing. She was unceremoniously shoved away, and dragged into mom's arms for a cuddle. Happy me, happy mom and happy dog.
4. Dad comes out of the bathroom, and mom gets up grumbling. I ignore all such happenings, and the dog escapes from mom's clutches to come and snuggle against my face. My face is now full of soft cocker spaniel fur. Love it.
5. Surface about 5 minutes later and hug father, amidst loud complaints that it is HIS room and HIS bed and she is HIS wife, and what right did I have to come in the middle? Smile seraphically at annoying father and amble into the cold to play with gambolling puppies. Heaven.
6. Play with puppies for a few minutes, and then get into long chat with neighbour about said puppies, my newspaper, the Hanuman chalisa and various other issues. Fun.
7. Amble back into the house, only to find father has disappeared to get milk and bread from the shops. Hinder mother's bed-making by jumping on half-made bed and encouraging cocker spaniel to do so as well. Then proceed to complain loudly as both of us are thrown out of the bedroom and the door is locked behind us. Grin.
8. Dance around the kitchen to cheesy Bollywood tunes blaring from the kitchen speakers. Yes, we have speakers in the kitchen. No, I will not explain. Yes, I can be bribed to explain.
9. Get handed some more work by the father. Demand exorbitant payment to do said work. Get backed up by tiny mother. Outnumber father. Girlie power, yay!