I wouldn’t have thought it possible to experience so many emotions at the same time.. I thought that happened only in romance novels, where the innocent teenage girl is confused and the boy doesn’t know how to get the attention of the bug-eyed tutor.
But that was before this week. Before I took my very first flight alone, said goodbye to everything familiar and comfortable. Everything I’ve known since I was a little girl. It’s scary. It’s scary to see your parents not even attempt a watery smile when they see you off at the airport. Scary to watch watch your friends ride off, not knowing when you’ll see them again. Petrifying to get into a taxi in a new city, and hope you can find your new home.
But there’s always solace in the grey. I found mine when I saw a hoarding right outside the airport. It said “Welcome to Delhi”, underneath was a little tiger, Shera, the mascot for the CWG 2010. This was the event I had been waiting for, for the last 2 years. This was the city of fast cars and cycle rickshaws, of ‘shudh hindi’ and Haryanvi swears, of Mother Dairy and Mousambi juice. It was a city of sweltering summer and freezing winters. I settled into the taxi, smiling at the world in general.... until my reverie was rudely interrupted by the taxi driver’s impatient questions. As it turns out, he didn’t know the way home either! Why did my house have to be in a maze? Many well-meaning mis-guiders, desperate phone calls home and detours later, we finally accomplished the seemingly impossible task.
An important point that I’ve left out, is the reason for all this. It was a huge risk, a job I didn’t have yet, that I had worked desperately towards for a year. So of course, my first priority was to sort that out. Without going into too many details of that, I’d like to say that I was quite proud of myself after the initial interviews. Aside from pulling the strings that had to be pulled, I think I managed OK on my own. The hardest part is always the waiting. Waiting for the head honchos to meet you, waiting to know what post they give you, and for the offer letter to arrive. Once that is done, it’s all cakewalk (I hear).
I did put my time to good use though. Looking up neighbours and relatives who might save me from my own cooking was a part of my game plan called survival. That done, the next step- a ‘young working professional’ wardrobe had to be looked into. Very important tasks of evaluating nearby take-aways, momo stalls and even a survey of the grocery stores and vegetable vendors were accomplished. As cousins took me out, I was introduced to a whole new world... one filled with kulchas and lachha parathas, shahi paneer and Chinese bhel. And of course, lassi! Lunch with an aunt turned ugly after a major allergy attack, but at the very least I learned not trust medicine shops to stock life-saving drugs, unless the profit margin was enticing enough. Dinner with the neighbours ensured I was updated on every aspect of the Indian Idol competition criteria (only people who know me understand the complete significance of this)
And as this narrative has probably lead you to guess, this stint is not going to do good to my waistline. But there’s hope for me still. Seeing as I don’t have a desk at the office, all that standing might burn some calories.
But that was before this week. Before I took my very first flight alone, said goodbye to everything familiar and comfortable. Everything I’ve known since I was a little girl. It’s scary. It’s scary to see your parents not even attempt a watery smile when they see you off at the airport. Scary to watch watch your friends ride off, not knowing when you’ll see them again. Petrifying to get into a taxi in a new city, and hope you can find your new home.
But there’s always solace in the grey. I found mine when I saw a hoarding right outside the airport. It said “Welcome to Delhi”, underneath was a little tiger, Shera, the mascot for the CWG 2010. This was the event I had been waiting for, for the last 2 years. This was the city of fast cars and cycle rickshaws, of ‘shudh hindi’ and Haryanvi swears, of Mother Dairy and Mousambi juice. It was a city of sweltering summer and freezing winters. I settled into the taxi, smiling at the world in general.... until my reverie was rudely interrupted by the taxi driver’s impatient questions. As it turns out, he didn’t know the way home either! Why did my house have to be in a maze? Many well-meaning mis-guiders, desperate phone calls home and detours later, we finally accomplished the seemingly impossible task.
An important point that I’ve left out, is the reason for all this. It was a huge risk, a job I didn’t have yet, that I had worked desperately towards for a year. So of course, my first priority was to sort that out. Without going into too many details of that, I’d like to say that I was quite proud of myself after the initial interviews. Aside from pulling the strings that had to be pulled, I think I managed OK on my own. The hardest part is always the waiting. Waiting for the head honchos to meet you, waiting to know what post they give you, and for the offer letter to arrive. Once that is done, it’s all cakewalk (I hear).
I did put my time to good use though. Looking up neighbours and relatives who might save me from my own cooking was a part of my game plan called survival. That done, the next step- a ‘young working professional’ wardrobe had to be looked into. Very important tasks of evaluating nearby take-aways, momo stalls and even a survey of the grocery stores and vegetable vendors were accomplished. As cousins took me out, I was introduced to a whole new world... one filled with kulchas and lachha parathas, shahi paneer and Chinese bhel. And of course, lassi! Lunch with an aunt turned ugly after a major allergy attack, but at the very least I learned not trust medicine shops to stock life-saving drugs, unless the profit margin was enticing enough. Dinner with the neighbours ensured I was updated on every aspect of the Indian Idol competition criteria (only people who know me understand the complete significance of this)
And as this narrative has probably lead you to guess, this stint is not going to do good to my waistline. But there’s hope for me still. Seeing as I don’t have a desk at the office, all that standing might burn some calories.
whoaa ! awesomme gal !!:):) really well written!
ReplyDeleteps:we are proud of you pri!:D
good one pritha...very impressive...keep updating!!:P
ReplyDeleteGoing jogging in the morning can take care of the waistline, otherwise nice clothes will again have to be given away to thin friends.
ReplyDeleteLooking up cousins, aunts and neighbours in the hope of getting fed is called - OPPORTUNISM.