I am back, exiting a lovely cocoon of motherhood and being at home, I find myself sitting at a green faced cubicle, typing on a Window (yikes) laptop and thinking of a powerful reason why I should feel guilty about writing a blog post on a Friday afternoon. Clearly I didn’t think hard enough!
There are some absolutely delightful things that comes with working in a large place. For starters it’s the power of having a routine. The having somewhere to go to, showering and dressing up and chugging along traffic – bitching about it as you go along, gives me a high. Yea, okok, its still week 1 the novelty shall wear off soon.
However, the power of a routine makes me way more productive than before. There is structure to the day, making me do more things in the same time than previously. The routine makes me eat less, talk more and sit on my ass a lot.
Big offices come with the other hidden perks. Coffee machines, printers that are free to use, food lying to be eaten, valet services, conceiarge, insurance, pf, perks that the young 22 year old me tossed with a aaarrgghh –boring! And the 32 year old in me post working with small to mid companies cherishes. Its almost like a ticket to Disneyland. The nameless facelessness of access cards, white coffee cups, green cubicles and flavourless interactions in the bathroom leave me unfazed.
I am me. In the jungle. The jungle does not define me. I don’t seek to define the jungle.
Yet something’s happen to me from inside the moment I get all the goodies mentioned above. The moment I am in, there is a desire to do more. To not be a designation or a job, to also be passionate about something, join yoga, express myself, write the blog. The faceless, namelessness of work drives me to be expressive, represent, do, create, be, not just lie around.
Its interesting to observe.
Sitting in on lunch conversations with colleagues- my brain cringes at lines like – ‘as I was burning the campfire’ or chicken and darru kabhi nahi waste karte’’ – I panic. Food, drinks and hanging around fills weekends and weekday evenings. Time flies. Years pass. With the hecticness of work leaving you with that, full inboxes and bank accounts
I know. My 20’s are a testimony of deferred choices. In my head while in my 20’s I have backpacked, ran marathons, worked with the underprivileged, applied for UN peace corps, learnt to paint, definitely knew how to play the guitar, completed the Vipassana, swam underwater across the pool, got the figure to die for and read every single book on the BBC best books ever list.
Reality is a tad different
Sitting here, plum in my 30’s my expectations are softer. I am less harsh on myself. Seeking balance is enough. Being happy crucial. Chasing my own goals the target.
Where is this coming from???
Lunch conversations were with young MBA’s ready to unleash themselves on the world. Defining themselves with the roles they handled. Chasing the brand, the work, the teams, the opportunities. Hearing them talk, I wondered what was my hunger? My drivers?
For the now I sound old when I say my drivers are Balance.
Space to grow me. Time to spend with the family. Recognition and appreciation from work. Money.
Learning to be a cat in the rat race