On 6 years of working

Of all the things that have remained steadfast in my life: my career would gain place of some pride. At exactly 6 years of working now, I have a sense of accomplishment: at having survived, and a sense of relief: of course, at having survived. I have also a sense of cynicism and a sense of the right: yet every day is a new day. I have, above all, a heightened sense of passion. So much so in the living rooms of Bombay it is proclaimed: I will evangelize for more women to work (and not compromise their careers for their often undeserving husbands).

I spend my Sunday afternoons reading through realms of digital newspaper, and my occassional night out evangelizing the digital business. I bury my nose in everybody else’s online business, and over the years have forsaken many a thing for this. Perhaps, that is ordinary.

But of all the things that have been said to me, it is this that I have been unable to do: keep my job at a respectable distance. It is necessary, for only if you examine your work from the distance of a casual lover will you be able to take home the peace of mind you merit. And, only if you detach your idea and leave it to dry will you be able to withstand the brutality of an overzealous co-creator. I have been somewhat stern, and turned a little wary: but somehow the passion has stayed. My love for what I do has stood me in good stead, when all else has failed.

I have never been less regretful of it, than this weekend. Having spent all of Friday evening setting up the campaign dynamics, I knew this was special; we were on a month-long mission to collect stories of people’s kindness to strangers. When my first story came in, I felt a certain kind of joy at being able to facilitate this, even as gunshots were being sounded world over.

Given my unhealthy attachment to my work, I carried this into my weekend. In the morning, I rolled out of bed in time to make tall glasses of a thick mango milkshake for all the house-help arriving in for their day’s duties. And, in the night I donated some money to an old man with a limp; he was selling bags to inebriated teenagers.

If you are good, life adds up: and you are better for your choices.

Advertisements

2 comments

  1. Anil

    If only we could assume responsibility without wearing it, we might just be able to leave it on the floor by the door we came in, uncared for, until it was time to take the door out the next day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s