Growing Up

Am I writing an epitaph to my joblessness? I’d rather not; suddenly, though, the future seems to be taking some sort of shape, admittedly hazy, but it’s better than being wholly ignorant of what is to come. A few of the blogs I have read abound in horror stories of life in cubicles, but I don’t want them to deter me from looking forward to the future. People often tell you what you’d not like to hear when you ask them about something, but it’s not a rule. Encouragement comes in from some quarters, and also hope. Soon, it will be time to put all the different theories to the test.

I went to school yesterday. To my school, where I finished Class Ten six years ago, before heading out into the jungle of competitive examinations. I thought much would have changed. But when I went in there, it felt like I’d been there every day these six years. It was all so endearingly familiar; the building, for some reason, looked a little smaller from the outside than it used to, but every inch of the inside was just as is engraved in my mind. My friend and I met our teachers; more grey hair than there used to be, evidently as they have had to cope with six more batches of unruly children/adolescents since we left. We saw some of their children as well, now in the higher classes. They received us with such a lot of warmth that I felt like I’d always been a part of school. I miss it a great deal; during recess my friend and I clasped hands and walked through the corridors teeming with children in uniforms, feeling like schoolgirls ourselves.

It’s hard to explain what I exactly felt like. School gave me the best years of my life, the most carefree and fantastic days. We had a great deal of fun and laughter, some tears, games in the hot sun…we hatched plots so we could worm a free period out of some teacher, we had our nicknames for them, ‘bullied’ our seniors (and most of them were nice enough to play along with us; those who didn’t were never popular). I have never been at ease as much as I was in school, among some great, understanding people. We were friends with our English and History teachers, and still are, and I feel good when I think I can always talk to them about anything I like. Whenever I want to go back to the past, I have something to fall back on.

My visit to school also made me realise in what magnitude my life is going to change now. Here I am at the moment, doing my Guardian crossword in the DC with a little help from the Internet (it’s not cheating - what else can I do when the clues are about the Renaissance and baby clothes?!). Soon, I’ll be going out into an entirely new world and doing things I’ve never imagined. What I do in the next few months will be nothing new, from the perspective of those who are now buried deep in projects and programming, and perhaps trying as hard as they can to get out of it. I have not the vaguest idea of what life is going to be like. These languid days of freedom will soon come to an end and there will be much change in my life. So why should I live in denial? If it’s going to be difficult, so be it. Atleast there will be, and have been, plenty of other people in the same boat. Besides, it is only when life becomes challenging that the little pleasures can be enjoyed best. Easier said than done, but that's the way it should be.

PS: I just might be happy to get rid of parts of this post once I'm actually in the wilderness. So please be kind enough not to rub it in if that happens.