Re-Set Button

Guess who was one of the few geniuses who took an off this Friday? When the entire world went through a technical outage and thus was a pseudo-holiday for anyone on a Microsoft system.  I do feel bad for the people stuck at airports or hospitals – this must have been nerve wracking, especially if you had a crying child beside you. I at least enjoyed my usual grocery shopping weekend trip in peace, with multiple videocalls home to decide half-saree designs for an upcoming function. This weekend’s ice cream pick was mascarpone-and-cocoa, much better than the coconut flavour last time. I had expected the Naturals Tender Coconut taste, but it tasted literally like flavourless ice cream coated in coconut oil. 0/10.

The day off was to help me re-set before I join a new team in a fairly new domain, but I didn’t expect the whole world to follow with this system update (hehe). The first two weeks of July have probably been the scariest of my career so far. As someone used to Day-Zero’s and pre-placement offers, a curveball of uncertainty was not up my alley at all. I must admit I am proud of the way I pulled through- using my limited network, weighing all the alternatives, reaching out to mentors and friends, and finally figuring out a solution that actually appeals to me. Okay, sorry for making this sound like a LinkedIn post. In conclusion, Aish is out of the woods for now.

What I am not too proud of, is how much I broke down. I’m used to being unstressed, emotionless, detached. My mother used to marvel (angrily) how I’d be lazing around on the day before exams, with zero tension. The running joke among my friends is that it takes me 2-3 business days to get over anything and anyone. Not this time, though. For the first time since I moved out 8 years ago, I had daily videocalls home just to feel some sense of security. My parents ever supportive (“come home, we will do farming together”) and my sister asking me to move to Mumbai so that she can join a top-tier dance class. I had to reach out to friends, to share the worry and ask for advice. This reaching out for help was a new experience, and while I am extremely lucky to have them all, it opened my eyes to a version of myself I had rarely seen.

How is it that the older you grow, the ability to be independent doesn’t grow linearly?

Mind you, it’s not when I am thriving or succeeding that I need company. It is during those scary anxious nights when you are trying your best to hold back tears, that you wish for maybe a sympathetic ear, or a caring hug. I thought age gave you maturity and resilience, or is it just me being a baby? I recently read a post that called life like a “jalebi”, with twists, turns and bumps – it made me chuckle. Gosh, I love jalebis. Especially in Ahmedabad, with fafda, papaya chutney and green chillies.

That’s another new twist of growing up that shocked me. My best friend and I, had a phone call today talking about the best way to make soft rotis. And then we paused to realise what just happened. We used to talk about our Barbie dolls’ birthday parties, then the best Disney shows to watch, then to coordinate outfits, then to discuss colleges and cafes, then to obsess over our jobs and careers. But now it’s about cooking meals? Man, such a mark of adulthood. How old we have gotten, seems like yesterday that we used to laugh and run around her apartment’s terrace, barely as tall as the potted plants.

So yes, time flies, life goes on, raat ke baad bhi toh savera hota hai – the usual. I met so many new people over the last month too, like during that nail-biting T20 World Cup final. Seeing someone pray in three different religions consecutively to make sure the South African wickets were taken was top-notch, or the fact that they thought the prayer for Sikhs was “balle-balle”. As I process what feels like standing between two metro trains rushing past in full speed in opposite directions, the fact that I did get another flower in my balcony helps (even though I bought it fully aware that the flower buds are already there). Hibiscus or daswal (Konkani) or chembaratti (Malayalam); just like the ones back in every home I know and in that terrace we used to play in.