Transitions

Transitory periods. I hadn’t really thought of it that way till V mentioned it today. What an interesting word – it carries all the passion of a power point but actually stands for what are possibly some of the most alive/ dead/ painful/ enlightening/ energizing/ debilitating and occasionally even transformational moments of our lives.

As I look back, there are so many such moments that occur to me. Unfortunately, most of them are not a pleasant memory; but maybe that’s their nature – to cause the pain that leads to movement or change.

I remember standing on the railway platform in Delhi, waving to Unni as his train pulled out; Unni’s eyes wide and expressionless, Sidharth’s arm around my shoulder, Shekhar standing quietly by. We all knew a time was ending, a time that had been a roller coaster, but a wonderful time as well, bringing us together and forging relationships that would last a lifetime. I went back in Shekhar’s car and for that drive, and many days thereafter, I would keep getting those knots in my stomach as I thought of great moments that wouldn’t come again, of people I wouldn’t see again. And as much as I looked forward to the next phase of my life, the sense of loss was immense.

A couple of months later, I myself was departing on the same train to the same destination. This time it was me forcing myself to be cheerful and Mummy on the platform forcing a smile, and both of us pretending that this was a trip and not a move that would alter the way we lived, and loved. Lesson learnt – never spend a transitory period cooped up in a cabin from which there’s no respite.

I experienced transitions as a catalyst for growth first when I moved to Accenture. The experience was bewildering, irritating, intimidating, exhausting and ultimately – one of learning and growth. At the end of a typical long and frustrating conversation with GV, he looked into my eyes and asked “do you know your people?” Click. I rediscovered myself as an HR professional after that.

Another interesting phase was when I moved to Manila for a few months. The sense of alienation which gripped me (and caused a lot of acidity attacks) in the first couple of days actually turned out to be liberating. I could think afresh, I could craft relationships afresh, I could experiment with my working style, I could draft my own charter. A stream of energy sped through me which lasted for several weeks.

Or the day Arav was born. The apprehensions, the insecurity, the tension of the subsequent weeks was all worth it as it helped us all develop a greater appreciation and sensitivity of the people we are and what we are responsible for.

But more often than not, transition is associated with pain in my mind, whether it be the early years or more recent ones.

1991 - Hours in classes at school, pretending as if maths tests, and jokes with friends, were the most important things in life. And then an hour of shock as I dealt with reality at home.

1993 - Quiet, silent observation as I decoded the new world around me, a different culture, a different ethos, stoically (and sometimes, not so stoically) countering barbed comments and glances.

1997 – A whirlwind of rage, triggered by helplessness, that lasted for several months until I made some peace with myself and the world around me. In the process, I caused too much destruction, to self and others.

And then…

2006 - A heartbreaking goodbye at the airport, coming back to a house that bombarded me with memories every square inch. And kept at it until I finally took a break and came back again after the emotions had dulled.

2010 - Walking back to my office seat after returning from Delhi, empty inside; the next few days pausing in the middle of meetings to look around me and wonder – is this real? How can this happen, how can I even talk, when I have nothing inside me? And then, as the numbness receded and the pain returned, the wonder that I was still alive, I could still think, talk, express…and even laugh and smile.

And now? Today I just sit with a smile on my face, presumably a wry one, since the irony of this piece of writing doesn’t escape me, considering that the trigger and the subject is the same.

The craziness of the last few days recedes a little; the protesting voice in my head increases its volume, and still gets an acknowledgement but not an acceptance; I don’t feel anything in particular, except just a little exhausted; I keep smiling at snippets of silliness that my memory throws up. And as I smile, a certainty grows in my mind and makes me smile even more. And then my eyes flick to my laptop screen, where a word stands out against a name – Offline.