The Battles Within

“I am sorry ma’am, but it seems we have a seat allocation challenge. Do you mind coming back after 10 minutes?” “Sure,” I replied. I was not going to let this bother me. It had taken a lot for me to just get to this airport. I walked back to where my family was and enjoyed a few more minutes with them before finally checking in. It was “d” day for me. I was leaving for New York; yet another trip to another place I had never been.

The feelings that were raging in my body today were very foreign to me. Most of the knocks that I answered at my door were from people in distress; people who believed I could talk sense into them, I could encourage them to refocus and stabilize; people who usually left my house comforted and encouraged. But today, I needed the grounding, I needed the stabilizing, I needed the refocus. I felt sick in my stomach; an edge to throw up but couldn’t; I was angry, but not very sure at who; I was agitated but even more so, I was afraid.

I remember the day the letter of acceptance came. I opened the email and wept. I had been accepted as an Acumen Global Fellow for 2016 (and appointed to work with Frontier Markets, Jaipur India). The tears were an expression of my disbelief — I do not remember ever wanting something as much as I wanted this fellowship and I could not believe that I had gotten it. I couldn’t believe they had chosen me; everyone at the interview was already exceptional. My tears were of joy. I had got in!!! But even in that moment, I also knew my tears were of fear. It was going to be yet another adventure, with hard work, pain and reflection. I knew and understood that silver was refined by fire, and I had chosen this fellowship to be the fire that would refine me. I knew the fire would burn but I believed it would all be worth it.

As I sat on the 13 hour flight to New York, I felt as if the fire had already started to burn. Due to the seating issue I had experienced earlier, I found myself in an aisle seat but interestingly in a cabin full of people of Indian/Asian origin. I sat next to an Indian American man (who seemed initially uncomfortable to sit next to me). Next to him was a Bangladesh young man, who was incredibly friendly.

Across from me was an Indian family; the son, a man old enough to be my father, his wife and his mother. The old lady was paralysed by age, she couldn’t speak but groaned and moaned for attention. I watched her son and his wife tend to her to ensure she sat, ate and slept comfortably. The family was clearly not wealthy, matter of fact, they seemed poor. For 13 hours I watched them. I wanted to help, but there wasn’t really anything I could do — I could barely eat or sleep. I understood their suffering, especially how they had become accustomed to it. Their pain saddened me.

The emotions I had battled with earlier that day resurfaced but this time, more intense. I flooded myself with questions I could barely answer. Was I making the right decision? Did I know what I was doing? What were my real intentions for this fellowship? Was I on some kind of a test? Did someone tell the airhostess that I was going on placement to India? Why was the cabin full of people of India/Asian origin? Was this a sample of what laid ahead of me? Was I ready for this?

I was the first person off that plane; not because I was excited to explore the new city or the new job; but because the stench of my fears, anxieties and insecurities was choking me. I got to my apartment and stayed in my room. I wasn’t ready to go anywhere.