Stretched out on his big office chair behind the counter, the man scratched his beard on seeing me come to ‘sell’ a product to his shop on a dry, summer afternoon. Beads of sweat rolled down my face, that I wiped and sat down, looking for the slightest possible relief inside the large electrical shop. “A woman, that too in sales, are you?”, he frowned and asked. I slightly nodded thinking about which part of his question my nod answers to, trying to avoid the surprised look on his face.

To carry on the conversation with a stranger, my introverted mind spilt out the usual ‘weather is really hot these days’. He spat his paan masala near his counter and made his point, “Today it is the heat, tomorrow you will have skin problems and your body will not be able to sustain this role. I have women at home, I have seen the problems that keep occurring to you guys at the slightest of discomfort.”

I would not say I was completely taken aback, but it wasn’t very sweet to the ears. I responded with a meek smile and was about to clear the stance, before which he added,”If you tell that a woman is in this profession to ‘big – good households’, it is not considered nice.”

To this, I was taken aback. Listening to this just when you have started with your first job ever is not encouraging, to say the least. What it sure did, although, was throw away the cloak of invisibility from the ghost of ‘gender bias’. A phrase that I read about and thought existed in history textbooks or lower strata of society… alas, reality had slapped it on my face.

The story is not uncommon, if you ask women in sales. How ‘thick skin’ is a preliminary skillset you develop within the role, certainly more applicable on women. How we have advanced into this new, vibrant India, but some borders around the minds of people remain intact, untouched and unchanged. How do then people change, you ask. They change when you make them frown. Make them uncomfortable by doing your job rather than being uncomfortable about yourself.

It took time for me to wrap my head around it. It took a while before I called myself out for being bothered by others.

What we do need to remember, whatsoever, is that

Unseen is confusing, yet the boat once taken fetches you to the other side, meeting wind, the sun, frowns, freckles, fun and fatigue on the route.

You sail through, eventually.

Similar to a tunnel, you see, once you get in, you are bound to reach somewhere, the least you ought to do is keep moving.

You travel through, eventually.

What matters in the journey, is what you see, where you stop and which signs you ignore to stumble and fall down. Falling down is an act of refreshment, I say, because as SRK said, the only way left to move when you are at your lowest is upwards and onwards. The more you weep at the shore for missed ship, the sea moves the ship farther away.

Until next time.

Not more can one wish for ‘being independent’ and ‘all on own’.

As I sit in my balcony, on a hot Sunday afternoon, after a massive power outrage stretched since last night; I try to find comfort in a warm gush of air that too seems to have lost its way. I have yet not mustered the courage to start with pending weekend-domestic work rituals, and my mind is wheeling onto the wagon of ‘whys’ and ‘what-ifs’ that have tagged along in this journey of adulting. Yes, adulting; enforced upon me by my first-time job and living completely on my own.

There are good days when I feel like I truly am the driver of my life. But in this initial, hectic stage, there are also evenings lying in bed with utmost bewilderment and despair. The latter case rests on physical and mental fatigue, which instills loneliness. The nature of my job is such that there is no office work, hence no office colleagues, and hence, no social circle one forms in a new job. The classic case of ‘you are truly on your own, even when your introverted self wants to socialise, you have nowhere to go to’.

Memories of college in Shillong serve as a temporary escape occasionally. More than often, We don’t value things when we have them, do we? The loneliness bothers me mostly when I come back early, or when I am not at the best of my health. I remember home, and how we take ‘homeliness’ for granted. How we grow up, little saplings into young trees. Seemingly ‘ready’ and ‘expected’ to face the storms. Maybe it’s for the good. Maybe, the more we live in comfort zones, the more we hamper our ability to outgrow ourselves every spring of life and bear fruits.

Considering this is going to instil the much anticipated confidence and skillset, I am taking one day at a time.

Until next,