Pause. Rewind. Redo.
Pause. Rewind. Redo.
7 AM. My alarm wouldn't stop snoozing until I somehow crawl towards the side table and subconsciously calculate the exact position of that stop button on my size and succeed in turning it off.
"Rise N Shine" read the alarm label, which otherwise said unpleasant things like "Meeting with Finance OMG" or "Internal Audit Get Up!!!" or "RBI Submissions, Kill Me". Life was getting better, one thing at a time.
Conquered the inner demons and got myself out of the bed. Now I had these humongous tasks of cooking, feeding myself breakfast and packing my lunch, ahead of me.
I haven't had breakfast for even a single day in the past 4 years. I got up and rushed to work. Never-ending updates, presentations, I learned to leave breakfast and a lot of other things behind. Lunch would always be from the cafeteria. But everything's changed now. I quit the job which I thought was what I always wanted.
It's impossible now. It either has to be breakfast or lunch. They don't have a cafeteria I remembered, so I will have to carry lunch. And then like always Breakfast lost in the battle of meals.
My bank balance was still one zero (or maybe two considering those really ambitious days) short of what I had planned to save before I quit. This is going to be hard. Should I call Mehra back and tell him I wish to continue? He'd probably want me back. I was good. But was it good enough for me?
I took a quick shower and slipped on my yellow Kurti. This feels good. Not choking yourself up in those buttoned-up shirts and blazers. No more of those stilettos hurting your heels and constantly giving you shoe bites. No more ponytail headaches. I could have frizzy hair and still leave it open because it doesn't matter if I am presentable or not.
I was all ready for the fresh start. Was I nervous? Maybe. Because all this while I have talked only numbers and jargon, more so to confuse people rather than to make them understand. But from today I have to be at my simple best. I need to make sure I speak sense. I need to listen better and not listen only to defend or debate.
Goooood Mooooorning Teeeeacher, the chorus of 30 amazing little kids in front of me. I smiled at them and asked them to sit down. I introduced myself as their new English teacher. Their smiling faces were a better sight than grumpy office faces. Their chitter-chatter was definitely more soothing for a Monday morning than Mehra's banter.
A long bell rang and kids jumped up happily. They took tiny steel tiffin boxes and ran outside to the verandah.
"Mam biscuit" one cute boy offered his bourbon biscuit to me. Two more kids saw this and ran with their snack boxes towards me. They wouldn't stop until I took a bite from their snacks. Seems like breakfast finally won the battle we were on for all this time.
Another long bell rang and they came back inside. I was substituting for another subject, and this backing up did not seem as tedious as the one where you do it because your colleague failed to show up.
All of you think about this for a while and then write about it in a piece of paper
I scribbled on the blackboard "I want to be ------------- when I grow up, because"
One girl shouted, "Ma'm what did you want to be when you grew up?"
"Teacher", I smiled.
I finally did justice to all those essays where I wrote I want to be a teacher when I grow up and teach poor kids.