I have a throbbing head today - I am hardly aware of anything else, it throbs too much. Today is one of those days when you just feel like giving up. For a person like me who can't handle rejection too well, who knew that rejection will become a way of life? I will be forever abandoned by the job market only because I had taken a break in my career? Even people who had tried to help initially will grow weary of my nagging and look away and purposely ignore me? I'd become a burden to the very family whose shelter I was seeking? Like Paul's plight in The Rocking Horse Winner, I'd hear whispers everywhere - we are poor and you are not contributing. Oh but how do I explain how earnestly I want to contribute? What if there isn't a glimmer of hope?
I am becoming sick and tired of this meaningless existence. Neither can I concentrate on anything else, e.g. preparation for GMAT. Money has been my driving source since I started working. May be because from those very first days I had been supporting my family. Now, getting like 1/4th of my erstwhile monthly take home as interest money doesn't seem sufficient at all.
I somehow find I don't fit in anywhere, not even in my own family. Neighbors are actually kind, they have never misunderstood my coming back as being fired from job etc. Instead they are eager for my parents to set up an arranged marriage. How on earth does arranged marriage happen? I am gradually stepping in my dead friend Samapti's shoes perhaps. The very girl, whom I had tried to help during her depressed state, but who anyways later committed suicide. I never ever thought I, the strong willed and talented me, will be in quite a similar state of mind. How life has pushed me around. Perhaps nothing else except my gullible and dreamy nature is to be blamed. I trusted people, that was my greatest fault. And oh, just how much I want to kill Karthik before I die. And I see him flourish every single day. God, you needn't help me, leave me to my evils, but punish him - he is one person who doesn't deserve to be happy, please God, punish him. I had been able to live on after everything else that occurred in my life, trusting this guy who personifies falsehood, killed me.
One more reason for my depression might be reading "The Casual Vacancy". I'd like to just tell J K Rowling, lady I can understand what it took to write that out. I tell you, there won't be one such author for ages to come.
These days, the only moment of happiness is the afternoons when I make coffee for my family. Creamy well brewed coffee, with a little plate full of biscuits and occasional presence of samosa or other tasty tit bits. That's the bliss moment - that takes away the entire days pain and ill treatment. This reminds me, grrrrrrrr I must write here once again about the terrible hell hole which my previous organization was. PF claim and Form 16 are the last two straws connecting us - and I'd have to tolerate the torture for some more time I guess. Absolute worthless support functions I tell you. I had painstakingly scanned the PF forms (in absence of a scanner, had to manage with my digicam and pasting the images on a word document and conversion from word document to PDF online - a long process in all), all I wanted the Finance desk guy was to review the forms before I send them across. This was the precious reply.
Sorry we will not check scanned copies, you can send us the forms & if there are any discrepancies we will get back to you.
Just imagine the idiocy of this statement. How can an IT company have this policy of not checking forms online? I have managed Partnership and Alliance channel in the organization - I have executed a number of deals online. How lame an excuse can one give, just for the sake of harassment? For it is my precious time and money that goes in sending the forms once again all the way from Kolkata to Bangalore. Doesn't matter to them. And in view of this jobless situation, I am in so dire need of money that I couldn't even complain about this. Just flared up in my mind and had to gulp down the anger. And once again, for the umpteenth time, thank God, I washed my hands off that wretched place. Even if I never again get a job and this decision proves to be a professional suicide, I won't regret it a bit. You just can't exist in such an obtuse place.
I also must write here about the girl who discovered me through this blog and wrote to me. She's really become (as she put in one of her mails to me) a soul sister. We exchange at least one mail per day and share the days experiences and our thoughts and views. In this apparent friendless void, she is a life saver - she is really sweet. She is much younger to me, lives in the north east part of India and calls me D'bhai (of course she learnt it from my blog). God has strange ways of calming you down when you are at your wits' end. This nanhi pari (little fairy - as I call her after Rani Mukherjee's character in Veer Zaara as described by SRK) tells me that she truly believes I shall have good days. Her words do not bring back the lost faith, but still makes me wonder a bit, may be she's right?
So to end up, as you might know, আজ ভাষা দিবস. International Mother Language Day or World Mother Tongue Day, as they call it. Though international, it is mainly a day to celebrate Bengali, my mother tongue. I don't know which other people have laid down their lives to be able to speak in their language. And I tell you, I, the girl who has been taught in an English Medium school, and have lived outside her own place for a major part of her life, and even probably thinks in languages other that Bengali, through all thick and thin, there is one thing I have realized, there is nothing sweeter than my language. And you know, today in the morning I was shedding ample tears thinking of all the regular issues, no geyser in the bathrooms, no sofa set in the drawing room - my inability to give my family the minimum amount of comfort. And then in the evening, mom suddenly suggests, out of her naivety, why don't we buy a তক্তপোষ - nothing but a four legged divan, much cheaper than a sofa. And it triggered off the memories - a small poem I had read as a kid,
ও রে ভাই শক্তচোষ, আমি হচ্ছি রক্তচোষ, মোদের নিবাস তক্তপোষ (apparently two bedbugs greeting each other), and then Suman emerged from nowhere, and I sang aloud to my family with such a pride -
তক্তপোষ বা মেঝেতে বিছানা, দড়িতে লুঙ্গি, শাড়ি তিনখানা,
তারই একপাশে পড়ে আধখানা বেওয়ারিশ বাসি বিসকুট,
দরজায় আছে নম্বর লেখা,
তাই দেখে দেখে ঠিকানাটা শেখা,
যদিও বাসার আসল ঠিকানা ১০ ফুট বাই ১০ ফুট!
Poverty, frustrations, sir aankhon par :) Only thing that makes me fight the throbbing head and the growing sense of dejection are these moments...
I am becoming sick and tired of this meaningless existence. Neither can I concentrate on anything else, e.g. preparation for GMAT. Money has been my driving source since I started working. May be because from those very first days I had been supporting my family. Now, getting like 1/4th of my erstwhile monthly take home as interest money doesn't seem sufficient at all.
I somehow find I don't fit in anywhere, not even in my own family. Neighbors are actually kind, they have never misunderstood my coming back as being fired from job etc. Instead they are eager for my parents to set up an arranged marriage. How on earth does arranged marriage happen? I am gradually stepping in my dead friend Samapti's shoes perhaps. The very girl, whom I had tried to help during her depressed state, but who anyways later committed suicide. I never ever thought I, the strong willed and talented me, will be in quite a similar state of mind. How life has pushed me around. Perhaps nothing else except my gullible and dreamy nature is to be blamed. I trusted people, that was my greatest fault. And oh, just how much I want to kill Karthik before I die. And I see him flourish every single day. God, you needn't help me, leave me to my evils, but punish him - he is one person who doesn't deserve to be happy, please God, punish him. I had been able to live on after everything else that occurred in my life, trusting this guy who personifies falsehood, killed me.
One more reason for my depression might be reading "The Casual Vacancy". I'd like to just tell J K Rowling, lady I can understand what it took to write that out. I tell you, there won't be one such author for ages to come.
These days, the only moment of happiness is the afternoons when I make coffee for my family. Creamy well brewed coffee, with a little plate full of biscuits and occasional presence of samosa or other tasty tit bits. That's the bliss moment - that takes away the entire days pain and ill treatment. This reminds me, grrrrrrrr I must write here once again about the terrible hell hole which my previous organization was. PF claim and Form 16 are the last two straws connecting us - and I'd have to tolerate the torture for some more time I guess. Absolute worthless support functions I tell you. I had painstakingly scanned the PF forms (in absence of a scanner, had to manage with my digicam and pasting the images on a word document and conversion from word document to PDF online - a long process in all), all I wanted the Finance desk guy was to review the forms before I send them across. This was the precious reply.
Sorry we will not check scanned copies, you can send us the forms & if there are any discrepancies we will get back to you.
Just imagine the idiocy of this statement. How can an IT company have this policy of not checking forms online? I have managed Partnership and Alliance channel in the organization - I have executed a number of deals online. How lame an excuse can one give, just for the sake of harassment? For it is my precious time and money that goes in sending the forms once again all the way from Kolkata to Bangalore. Doesn't matter to them. And in view of this jobless situation, I am in so dire need of money that I couldn't even complain about this. Just flared up in my mind and had to gulp down the anger. And once again, for the umpteenth time, thank God, I washed my hands off that wretched place. Even if I never again get a job and this decision proves to be a professional suicide, I won't regret it a bit. You just can't exist in such an obtuse place.
I also must write here about the girl who discovered me through this blog and wrote to me. She's really become (as she put in one of her mails to me) a soul sister. We exchange at least one mail per day and share the days experiences and our thoughts and views. In this apparent friendless void, she is a life saver - she is really sweet. She is much younger to me, lives in the north east part of India and calls me D'bhai (of course she learnt it from my blog). God has strange ways of calming you down when you are at your wits' end. This nanhi pari (little fairy - as I call her after Rani Mukherjee's character in Veer Zaara as described by SRK) tells me that she truly believes I shall have good days. Her words do not bring back the lost faith, but still makes me wonder a bit, may be she's right?
So to end up, as you might know, আজ ভাষা দিবস. International Mother Language Day or World Mother Tongue Day, as they call it. Though international, it is mainly a day to celebrate Bengali, my mother tongue. I don't know which other people have laid down their lives to be able to speak in their language. And I tell you, I, the girl who has been taught in an English Medium school, and have lived outside her own place for a major part of her life, and even probably thinks in languages other that Bengali, through all thick and thin, there is one thing I have realized, there is nothing sweeter than my language. And you know, today in the morning I was shedding ample tears thinking of all the regular issues, no geyser in the bathrooms, no sofa set in the drawing room - my inability to give my family the minimum amount of comfort. And then in the evening, mom suddenly suggests, out of her naivety, why don't we buy a তক্তপোষ - nothing but a four legged divan, much cheaper than a sofa. And it triggered off the memories - a small poem I had read as a kid,
ও রে ভাই শক্তচোষ, আমি হচ্ছি রক্তচোষ, মোদের নিবাস তক্তপোষ (apparently two bedbugs greeting each other), and then Suman emerged from nowhere, and I sang aloud to my family with such a pride -
তক্তপোষ বা মেঝেতে বিছানা, দড়িতে লুঙ্গি, শাড়ি তিনখানা,
তারই একপাশে পড়ে আধখানা বেওয়ারিশ বাসি বিসকুট,
দরজায় আছে নম্বর লেখা,
তাই দেখে দেখে ঠিকানাটা শেখা,
যদিও বাসার আসল ঠিকানা ১০ ফুট বাই ১০ ফুট!
Poverty, frustrations, sir aankhon par :) Only thing that makes me fight the throbbing head and the growing sense of dejection are these moments...
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