A day in the life of ...
I opened my eyes to the bustling sound of traffic, with the random loud horn from the trucks on the Hawa Singh road outside. I checked the time, it was 0718hrs. I was up late today, I am usually up by 0630hrs — I must have been very tired yesterday. I have been emotionally exhausted over the last couple of days, so maybe that is why. I just needed some kind of emotional re-energizing. I remembered that I spoke to one of my fellow fellows before going to sleep. This guy has a way of leaving me inspired after every conversation — sometimes it is a little frightening. I feel challenged to do something, but he never has to say anything along those lines. I am just led in that direction by the conversation itself. He did make me feel better, although I still had a long way to go to regain my emotional strength.
I checked my messages on whatsapp, flipped through facebook for news from home (I kind of hate reading newspapers) and then picked up my bible and went through the book of Judges, chapter 17 and reflected on it. I found it difficult to comprehend. As I read it, I felt a fear come upon me; I was afraid for the Danites and their Levi whom they stole from Micah. Something about what they had done was not right. Anyway, I logged on to the women’s whatsapp group I formed two years ago to share my thoughts and wish them well for the day. My morning –in-bed ritual was done.
It was just after 0800 and it was time to head to the gym. I was on day 14 of a 24 day challenge and was doing very well on it. It seems I could actually be disciplined at something for once. All ready and packed up, but all my t-shirts were in the laundry. I had to put on a tank top which made me very uncomfortable for it neither hid my arms nor my bottom. I walked to the gym across the road from my apartment, past the lady feeding the cows, and the old man sitting on the tarred road, selling some corn to feed the pigeons. He murmured something to me in Hindi, with a smile on his face, and I simply smiled back at him. I desperately need to learn Hindi. I hate missing out on this little conversations.
Work out was good, and I headed back home, past the same man, who still murmured something to me and I smiled. However, there was something about his body language that made me question why I had never stopped once to feed the pigeons. I realised I had no real reason for it so it was resolved on that day, that I would feed the pigeons on my way back from the gym. I got home, showered and packed for work, and just then the maid arrived. There was no way I was going to stay home until she finished cleaning. It was already 1030 and there was a scheduled meeting for 1100. I also needed a few minutes to do a few emails for the Women In Tech Week program that I was organising back home. I was lagging behind in the preparations significantly.
In broken Hindi the maid, my driver and I agreed that I could leave the apartment and they would finish up without me. I walked to the office in the humid heat of Jaipur Monsoon and sweated profusely. Of course I was used to the sweating but on this particular morning, it was more intense. My entire top was socked in it — or maybe I had just picked the wrong top — polyester not cotton. Upon reaching the office, cooling my body was the main objective — turned on both AC and Fan — I acknowledged my privilege right there. I could have just been driven to the office, or arrived to a place with no fan let alone AC — but I could choose to walk knowing I could freshen up at the office. Simple privileges.
I headed to the kitchen to mix my home packed muesli with the yorghut I forgot to carry home last night. I usually have breakfast at home. Walked back to my office, which was now nice and cool, and unpacked my laptop. I was going to try and send my emails before the meeting started, while having my breakfast. Just then, she walked in. I had complimented her saree and noticed that she looked particularly dressed up that morning. But when she walked in, the expression on her face was that of distress. I would soon find out why.
Today was the day that she made a very big decision in her life and walked away from the painful life she had led for several years. Because of her decision, she was despised for it and had found herself with no friends or real family support. As she told her story she broke down into tears and as I sat across the table from her with my bowl of muesli in hand, I contemplated on how best to respond. The truth is I am usually on this side of the table back home, so I am kind of used to it. It is just that I did not feel emotionally strong to support anyone else right now. While I was yet in thought, I looked at her and her pain broke my heart. You see, I have also made the same decision she made, but I was not as condemned as she was. I put my bowl down and walked over to her and took the seat next her, and held her. She sobbed away. I said it was ok to cry.
When she has calmed down, I asked why she was crying, and she spoke of the pain of the memories of what she went through and how she felt she had lost everything. We talked about painful memories and how we could never get rid of them or forget them. We concluded, we would try to make them our source of strength. We giggled about life and growth. I was honored that she chose to speak to me about it. When she was ready she called in the rest of the management team for the meeting. It was 1115 — I was late again.
As a team, we had had a major breakdown a few days before. Everyone, including me, was thoroughly frustrated about a situation we had faced, and neither one of us was happy with the way we had handled it. I thought it necessary to call a meeting to discuss “What went wrong” “What worked” What did not” “What we should do more of” “What we should do less of”. Everyone opened up and had a lengthy and detailed discussion on some topics that had led to miscommunication. While in this meeting, one of the managers expressed his frustrations about another situation with another department. I sat back and watched the other managers advise him on how best to deal with the situation. Sigh. At least I can sit back for a bit.
We had to call in one other staff member to address the situation that had arisen in the other department, and while I was enjoying my sitting back, the whole conversation degenerated into a verbal attack on each other. Oops! I chimed in, with the support of the rest of the management team. My voice was just there to call for order, but the rest they did on their own. Turns out, a system we had developed months before needed to be re-implemented. A lot of new staff had been recruited but had not been oriented on this system — hence the conflict. Plans were made, to not only orient the new staff on the system but to improve it too. I needed a separate meeting for this — scheduled for it on Monday — it was Saturday. Of course this was not part of the plan. I was tired, and hungry. It was 1312hrs.
I decided given the success of the meeting we had just had, it was a good day to have lunch with the team — and I had promised to buy lunch this Saturday anyway. We all packed up in one of the manager’s new car, with little conversation and lots of laughter, and went to a restaurant for lunch which was followed by a double dessert. I felt guilty indulging, but I told myself — it’s a breakthrough day. Honestly reflecting on this, every single day is a breakthrough day — maybe I should have a double dessert everyday too! I packed some of the dessert for later. It was just too much. The two ladies (including me), went to a nearby clothes shop for some window shopping before heading back to the office. It was 1410hr.
I was full from the lunch and feeling sleepy and so I announced that I would be heading home early. It was a Saturday after all. But I had scheduled another set of meetings in the afternoon, this time one on ones with the management team to plan for the next quarter’s activities. I was leaving in a few weeks and would be gone for a couple of months but needed to ensure that the activities and structure was clear and could be reported virtually. I knew I could not avoid losing more time, so I had the meetings. Mid way, I had to attend to some recruiting requirements before continuing with the meetings. It was 1702 at the end of the last meeting. Hah! An entire day of meetings. It was time to get some of my own desk work done. I had a call with the consultant who was helping us revise the business plan and build the road map for execution, then attended to some emails and reports. It was 1930, and I was now exhausted — time to go home.
On my way out I bumped into the driver, “Maam, wait, I got you some mangoes”, “Why thank you”, I gladly replied. My love for mangoes was no secret and this was a pleasant surprise. I usually have a mango when I get home after work, and it dawned on me then that I had no mangoes left. Perfect timing too. He handed me a plastic bag with 4 mangoes. “Maam, wait, fish”, “Fish”, I asked, “Yes, Indian fish” he responded. A couple of months back he had brought me a piece of fish to my office while I was working late (he stays at the office), and it was the most delicious fish I had ever had. I suppose he had thought to repeat the treat.
“We make now” he said, but I was now thoroughly exhausted, “I am tired, I go home now” I declined. “Ok maam, tomorrow I bring you at home” he said. He understood my exhaustion. He is more than a driver, he is one of the people who takes care of me, very close to family itself. When the 45 degrees celcius summer set in, he made sure that, not only was there water on my desk, but that I was drinking it! “Ok, thank you. Good night,” “Good night”.
I walked home, with a bag of mangoes in one head, my left over dessert in the other and my laptop bag slung over my shoulder. It was a much cooler night and I strolled home with a million thoughts rushing through my mind. This was going to be my life for at least the next one and a half years and I needed to start embracing it. The standing plan was to learn Hindi, but what else could I do. I reflected on what I used to do, that made my life more meaningful back home. I remembered that one was making tea every evening for the guard at my compound flat. I decided right then that my dessert parcel was going to be for the guards. I dropped it off to the guards at the gate as I got home. “Thank you maa’m”, “You are welcome”. I wondered if they understood. I wondered if I was not breaking any cultural limits by this act. I chose to ignore my wonderings.
I walked into my apartment; Home Alone 2 I thought to myself, I switched on the television. I was excited to have visitors next week — some human company would be most desirable. I dashed to the kitchen and washed my mangoes. Yet another plastic bag. There were enough plastic bags in the apartment to last a year — definitely needed to do something about that. I took one mango and sliced it and put the rest in the fridge. I took a book, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, a gift from the consultant I had spoken to earlier, and laid on the couch to read it. It was a tough mission to eat the mango and read the book without making a mess but mission was successful. In between, I chatted with my sister on whatsapp. She too was home alone and giving herself a pedicure. I moved to my bedroom, read a bit more, and then went to sleep. It was 2246hrs. An early night for me. I would be up early tomorrow too.’
