A chapter closed

At exactly 6:20 pm on 18^th Jan 2013, I felt my safety net slip away from beneath me. I stood at the helpdesk, turning over the green plastic card in my hand, observing details I hadn’t noticed earlier, wasting time on the little stuff, because I didn’t want to think about the bigger elephant on the table in my head.

I acutely remember the trepidation and the butterflies I had in my first week here. Sitting at that desk in that little bay in Bang 1, trying to disappear into the background as I watched the more tenured colleagues stride about, having incomprehensible conversations. And then the events…the community events, the inductions, the employee initiatives…that terrified me when they happened, but left an afterglow of satisfaction.  The joy of sitting across a business leader and anchoring a conversation that made a difference; the frustration when it didn't. My team at AFS, my first taste of the headiness of growing, nurturing, driving people. My fumbling introductions in Manila, averting my eyes as I felt all others’ eyes on me. The little scrapbook at the end of that assignment, something to treasure always. The long, indulgent, self-revelatory chats with the people I worked for and the balancing act amongst them. LC’s tears, genuine and touching. The weird employee cases. The awe at St. Charles, the pride of being part of something great. Coming across a practice and template created by you at a desk several years ago, still used and relevant. The points of decision, sometimes swayed by the interests of the people around. The long hours, falling hair, expanding waistline. The long coffee and phone chats with friends that made it all worth it. The anger at the misuse of the system, at the multiplication of mediocrity. And yet the sense that it all came together finally, something bigger than the sum of the parts. People I adored, people who adored me. People I detested, people who detested me. Dancing, sometimes just a quick spin…sometimes till my feet ached.  Large events, expensive give-aways. A line by a leader, heard in a session, stored and remembered forever. My first “tpov” session, laughing at my own pomposity, sobered by the attention of my audience. The knowledge that I was looked at, looked up to. Learning to be careful about my expressions, facial and verbal. The culture of offsites, many boring, some fun…the Bollywood night in BPO for example. The first salary review, so incredibly satisfying; the last one, so shocking! The irritation with the delayed promotions, the anticipation of new roles and jobs. Farewell messages. Beautiful poems. Interesting out-of-office mails. People who didn’t have a life; people who were all life. The beautiful madness of 2012 when I got on that rollercoaster. Emails; all the time. Getting corrected on communication…and then paying it forward. Mind numbing processes and procedures…and lightning shortcuts through relationships. Decks. Fancy notebooks. The delight of an award won…and again…and again. Making a difference to someone, earning their respect.

A quiet entry. A noisy farewell. Love and respect. My safety net, woven carefully and diligently over nine and a half years. Slipped away as I handed in my id card.

You and I, caught in an unexpected cycle of pain

What am I doing? Why am I being so cruel? Or am I sulking? Or is this a tantrum? Or am I hurt? Or am I tired? Or am I sad?

What does this silence hide? Can it hide the thousands of words that flow from me to you? Can it blank out the shared universe we inhabit? Does it shield us from intrusive glares of a world that may judge, and even condemn? Is silence my response to the emotion that consumes to such depth that it leaves me speechless?

There have been so many laughs, so many smiles…chuckles, grins. It’s not been fire and brimstone. Instead it’s been easy companionship, aided by an electrifying chemistry. Am I insisting on paying the price for this happiness I have received, anticipating and pre-empting a demand? For what is the easiest way to burn and torture myself, than to see you suffer? Each iota of pain in your mind doubles as it makes its way to me. And that is the equation I rely on for justice to be served, at my cost and yours.

I long to talk, to hug, to love, to caress. But I know that’s not possible. So maybe I am throwing the kind of fit a child would…either I have it all...or nothing.

That is not sensible. I know that. But nothing of this is sensible. That’s what conventional wisdom says. But I want to lay that convention down and screw it upside down. The last year has meant giddy happiness and a transformation of the soul. That, in any language, is sensible.

But what of right now? Am I suddenly turning sensible, and causing my own destruction in the bargain? Or am I being cruel? Or sulking? Or throwing a tantrum? Or retreating in hurt silence? Or getting tired? Or just being plan sad?

I don’t know. All I know is that I love. And I am silent.