Ever since I closed the doors to my house, deciding to be more discerning of who all I let in into my life, I have stopped singing. I don't fly into rapture anymore; my voice no longer soars. I don't wake up in the middle of the night anymore with inspiration for a new song that I just have to take down. Be it sadness or joy, nothing compels me into singing anymore. I no longer sing just for the sake of it.
I can't consciously accept that I sing only for an audience. What kind of an artist find his art to be an inadequate inspiration, ever dependent upon the response his art generates in people to create more art? I couldn't be that kind of artist.
I force myself to create art just for my eyes. I keep the door closed, and on top of it, draw the blinds- my fortress is more secure than ever. I tell myself- if I'm a true artist, keeping out an audience won't have an impact on my creation- I'll be able to sing as before, I'll want to sing as much as I did before and I'll continue to draw pleasure from it as before, because seriously, nothing substantial has changed, right?
You see, I have been living in a state of dissonance.
Little did yours truly realize before today that her only release was in the songs she sang- the words she
crafted. Since she had stopped writing for others, she had been stopped
from having witnesses to her existence, and by and by, from finding a
release.
This January I started living a dream. I started teaching in a
college of Delhi University, as an adhoc Assistant Proffessor, a dream
that had taken shape when I was still a student in the same university,
and these days I can't help but fall back on reminiscing all that passed
along the way and being grateful for eveything and everyone that made
this possible.
I distinctly remember the day I had tagged along with my father to
buy an appliction form for DU. While Papa was trying to figure out where
we could buy the form, I was soaking up everything around, starry and
dreamy eyed. I had done my research and knew that I would easily make it
in DRC for Psychology Honours, so I wasn't anxious about my next trip
to Delhi for admission and making ararngements for my first year of stay
in the city, let alone about getting the form and filling it correctly.
While my father remained absorbed in the immediate practicalities of
the situation that day, I immersed myself in the undiluted joy I felt at
the prospect of studying in DU and mentally made a promise to the
universe- I'll make a mark here... leave my imprint.
I daresay I lived up to the promise. I bagged the Delhi University
Topper tag (and a cool gold medal) for my batch in Psychology, and also
won the Best All Round Student of the College for my batch in DRC. I
went on to do my post-graduation in Clinical Psychology at TISS, Mumbai and fulfilled another
dream. Even before I had passed out of college, I was already working in
Mumbai and staying in a flat with total strangers for the first time. I
left that job in a couple of months to start my career in teaching and
came back to Delhi. I spent a fulfilling semester in Jamia Milia Islamia
University where I taught both undergraduate and post-graduate degree
program students before I was finally eligible for my big moment:
teaching in DU. Now, I have aced the first interview I appeared in for
DU and have started my journey as a faculty in Kamla Nehru College.
In all of this, my family, teachers and God have had huge roles to
play, as I keep saying. What I have rarely sung praises for though is my
parents' good financial sense without which all this could have
remained just fragments of my dreams. It was never planned that I was to
study in DU. I come from a small town in Odisha, from a family of
teachers and doctors. Being the eldest in my generation, it was always
expected that I would tread the conventional path and study medicine.
And then, life happened. It's a long story that I have already told a
number of times, most recently here.
Anyways, it was 6 O' clock in the morning and my father awoke me from
sleep that day to ask me if I could be ready for the 11 O' clock train
to Delhi that day. My Mom had an inkling that I wanted to do Psychology
Hons. from DU and she had been able to do what my crying and pleading a
thousand times before to my father had failed to. I was going to Delhi! I
was going to study in DU!
Things happened very fast after that. Very few of it was smooth,
considering that everything had been decided in the eleventh hour, the
final date of application submission in DU inching closer every day.
However, never did I see finances being an issue. Sure, my parents
weren't aware of my exact aspirations till I had appeared in my 12th
board exams (well I did want to become a doctor till the beginning of
class 11th, so they are not entirely to blame!), but they sure were
prepared. Starting from a comfortable stay that was close to my college
to being cool with my needs of a new wardrobe and my insane book-buying
sprees (for a small town girl who was used to buying new books at Rs.
300 or so on an average, Delhi was paradise for its pirated stuff being
peddled at 50 rupees and such). I don't come from a super rich family,
so having never had to complain for finances is actually saying
something (also, I happen to be very sensible with money...mmmm, most of
the times). Same was the case when I had to move to Mumbai and
everything got more expensive. It was a tense moment when in the first
week of having joined my workplace after my 2 years of post-graduation
at TISS, I had decided to get a room in a flat close to office and had
been asked to deposit 25,000 rupees as advance before I could book a
room. It was a total surprise for my parents because I still had a month
to go in college (it was block-internship period, so no classes) and
hence had my college hostel occupancy in place, but they also knew that
the longer they made me wait, the worse my health condition would get
for travelling 3 hours to and from hostel daily. They shelled out the
money the very next day and again I had everything in place so that I
could focus on the quality of my work.
I wonder what it would have been like if my parents had told me that
they didn't have money to send me to Delhi and Mumbai for my education.
It wouldn't have been easy to blame them, as I myself had hidden my
aspirations from them deliberately till the last possible time, due to
fear of their reaction- rejection of my dreams. I just got lucky. Have a
look at this 3-minutes' video here. It strikes the bull's eye at what
I'm trying to get at:
My parents also, in a way, got lucky, and they don't have to regret
not having being able to support my dreams. Today, they are proud of my
achievements! Yet, it might all have been quite different, which is
scary. One can't stress too much the importance of parents being on the
same page as their kids and understanding their aspirations. Both
emotionally and financially, parents need to plan for their children's
future from early on. It is extremely crucial in this age of increasing
costs of education, for parents to #DoYourHomework, and thankfully a lot
of help is on hand!
There are brilliant tools available these days that make the job easy
for parents- there are custom made colouring books and story books for
kids available for download free of cost (here)
that help parents start a conversation regarding dreams and career
goals. Of course, as evidenced from my story, dreams change and one
needs to prepared for such surprises to the best of one's abilities.
There's a neat module available online
for exactly such scenarios- it helps parents find out education costs
for various careers across various countries both in the current and in
the future. There's also a nifty little app called the Homework App
which not only gives information on the future value of the course a
child wants to take up, but also the estimated amount of money one
ineeds to invest to reach that goal. As finance gurus tell us, it's not
enough to just save money; one needs to invest that money smartly to be
secure of a future in which dreams don't die becuase of lack of
finances.
A mantra I recently got to know about that finance gurus offer comes to
mind, which could save one tens of thousands with zilch costs. We all
have to pay taxes, and the taxman takes a significant chunk of our money
every year. One can't avoid him but there's a way one can actually cut
back on what must be kept aside for the taxman by sharing less with him.
One can invest in an ELSS and save upto Rs. 40K plus under Section 80C!
It's simple really- Share Less & Save More- learn how here. This small video explains the merits of sharing less with the taxman:
A lot of on-ground awareness action has also happened in the last
few months to help parents in this endeavor. At 17 outlets of Crossword
Bookstores across 7 cities and in Kidzania, Mumbai for a period of 3
weeks, parents were made to engage in doing their homework, and setting
up the foundation of a secure future for their children by the people at
Axis Mutual Fund who are committed to creating awareness amongst
parents on the need to plan for their children's future. There is
clearly no excuse to be lazy and leave it up to chance with so much help
available. As a parent, it is highly desirable that you #DoYourHomework
and here is where you can start!
The recent attacks in Pathankot Air Base have been jarring to me. There are clips after clips of the bombings, the combing operations, the funerals and the family members that the martyred soldiers of the Indian Army left behind in my social media newsfeeds. Reports suggest that the attacks couldn't have been executed without the support of Pakistan military, yet they followed so close to Prime Minister Narendra Modi's visit to Pakistan in which his comeraderie with his counterpart in Pakistan was much celebrated! So what is happening here? Is it that the Pakistani Army and the ISI want to show that the real power lies with them, and Modi's bonhomie with Sharif isn't going to change much?
Terrorism, at its heart though, is cowardice. It arises out of an inability to
accept world views that are different from our own and ground realities
that we don't like, and feeling incapacitated. It is as far as anything
could be from being a show of strength. These attacks in which so many Jawans were martyred did not in the least manage to spread fear, for terrorism hardly manages to do that these days. What it rather evoked, as such incidents do these days, is disgust at their inhumanity and pity at their lamentable thinking.
A new year is a time of shouting optimism, delusional self-confidence and selective amnesia. Just kidding. Actually no, I'm serious. It's that time of the year when we religiously forget our past success rate with resolutions and are driven to make new resolutions, yet again (some just old wine in new bottle!).
On a serious, and more positive note, a new year automatically fills us with enthusiasm for making changes in our life that we have long desired but have not been able to act on yet. It offers a fresh hope and a new platform to try again, to start from scratch, even if it is to repeat our mistakes! On the last couple of days of 2015, as I sat meditating on what my resolutions for 2016 should be, I started reflecting on how overrated new resolutions actually are. My mind conjured up image after image and gathered evidence after evidence from my own past for supporting this idea, and ultimately I was left with this: no new resolutions in the new year this time; 2016 is to become the year I tie up loose ends.
Starting new projects is bold and cool, granted; finishing them is the real deal. This year, I plan to polish the skills I already have and improve myself further in everything I'm already involved in. If new endeavors present themselves, I'll lap them up of course, but I won't forget the importance of continuing to shine where I have already sparkled in past. To 'continuity for change'!
Btw if you like to read, and are looking for an inspired beginning to your new year, here is a great list by the awesome people at High Existence.
About a month back, I had my last class of the semester with a bunch of students from each class that I was teaching at Jamia Milia Islamia University. Since I was looking for prospects in other universities in the city, I had informed them that our class of the semester was also probably going to be our last class together- most probably, I wasn't coming back to teach them in 2016. The responses of my students were extremely touching! One class in particular, the 3rd semester, that I taught Abnormal Psychology, made my last couple of hours spent with them endearingly memorable. They got me this cake, as a Thank You token and many came to thank me personally with their own personal tokens of remembrance.
In our last but one class together, I had asked these students to give me feedback on what the Abnormal Psychology classes had done to them, meaning, if there was any change in their perspective towards mental illnesses and those diagnosed with them or any other such influence. I did expect positive feedback regrading this, and also positive feedback for my teaching as well thrown in, but never even in my dreams could I have anticipated the kind of adulation I saw in those little letters for myself and my teaching.
"We will miss you for being the Psychology teacher from the fantasy world."
I had tears in my eyes as I read letter after letter of undiluted love and admiration and truly realised the immense power the profession of teaching has for moulding hearts.
"I want to be like you- intellectual and kind. You made us become better human beings."
I decided to preserve those letters and keep them close to me always. I know they are going to come handy as shields anytime I come close to somethin akin to burnout! Over the last few days, I took some of my favorite letters and pasted them in a scrapbook, which is now one of my most precious assets.
Here are a few precious ones:
There is no end to my gratitude to the universe for allowing me to make such an impact on these kids, and for receiving so much more than I gave them.
