The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

I was always told that I had my fingers in too many pies. Logically, it should have worked for me because I had a plethora of options to choose from. All I knew was that whatever I did with my life, it had to involve people, lots of colour, madness and creativity.

This is the MBA generation. In most cases, money talks while satisfaction takes a back seat. So isn't that supposed to be the path I take?

I work the other way round. A fat salary at the end of every month didn't stop me from chucking everything to the side and chasing my dream. No matter how much it paid me, the levels of happiness would be unparalleled. At least I was sure of that. And I wasn't wrong.

After 2 years, I know that no high flying corporate career will ever be able to match up to the joy of teaching, giving, learning and loving. My first day at work and I know I can do this for the rest of my life. This is where I belong. This is passion!

The last time I gave my heart away like this was 7 years ago when I picked up a book that had "ECONOMICS for Class XII" written on the cover.

This time it's to a wonderful little place called Neev.

Attention!

All the world (that's in my world) loves a writer. Especially when she doubles up as a close friend :P

http://talesreignsupreme.blogspot.com/

To be checking out please :)

I can't wait to start working.

It seems exciting. Fun. New. Creative.

And

It'll give me the perfect reason to let the world rot in my indifference folder.

Sounds good.

Now back to mindless TV watching.

Deep reserves of emotions or just emotionally dead?

Flummox. I like the way the word sounds. I like the way it's written. But most of all I like what it means.

I was told that the place we were going to was rather fancy. A small celebration for my newly acquired Masters degree. I decided to wear a pretty top, matching jewellery, my hot black pumps and minimum make up. I was all set for a great night with some exotic food and wine.

Once we reached and settled down, the owner of the restaurant came over to our table. She and my aunt got talking.

Aunt: I love the way the place is done up. The paintings, the furniture, the crockery... lovely!

Owner: Yeah? Thank you much. That painting there (pointing to a wall) was done by my son. He's 6 years old. I designed the plates and glasses.

Aunt: They are beautiful. Your pottery is very nice.

Owner: I like the colours and the glaze. I want to visit the pottery school in Pondicherry.

At this point (after taking a few sips of my drink) I added my two bits.

Me: I've seen this kind of textured pottery only in Pondicherry. Even your mats are made of handmade paper, right?

Owner: Oh yes, they have some very fascinating stuff there.

I agreed and mentioned that it's one of my favourite places.

After a while, she turned to me and asked "So what do you do? You're still in school?"

Me: School? £%^&$*(!!!!

For a few seconds, I wondered what just hit me.

Flummox (v): To confuse, bewilder

A photograph of my maternal grandfather stares at me as I type this out.

My idea of him is completely constructed by the stories I have heard from the people who knew him, worked with him, were related to him. Till now there has never been a harsh word said. I don't think there ever will be.

My mother says that in a few ways I'm a lot like him.

I wonder how different my life would have been had I met him.

So after a day long affair, we graduated. Hooting, whistling, clapping, throwing shawls in the air, screaming (Not us. We were a very well behaved bunch) and finally the degrees came our way. I thought I would be thrilled beyond words but I'm not. I'm in my mixed feelings zone. I'm not going to visit the city for a long time to come. Strangely, I seem to be forgetting a lot of things that were once happy memories. My head is still buzzing all the time. I don't know when I'll see my batchmates again. I don't know what the future holds in store for me.

I'm going to switch off for a while. Maybe a little holiday (starting tomorrow) will wipe the haziness away.

Detachment. I want. Now.

Sometimes it gets on my nerves to deal with fully able, educated, grown up people who just think paying attention is too much to ask for. After trying hard to be understood, I raise my voice slightly and I get accused of being short tempered. Egad! In all honesty, I can't wait to hit the city by the sea. That place always provides me with a cloak of anonymity on arrival. Sadly, it withers away when I leave. This probably is the story of my life. I need peace, space and my sense of freedom all the time. Don't know if it is a good or bad thing.

There's a buzz in the head. No questions or answers... just a constant buzz (not the kind alcohol causes). I sense metamorphosis round the corner.