There are so many days when all I want is to go back to the times when my life revolved around my college campus. Projects, assignments and exams, that’s all I used to be worried about then. But now, I’ve landed in a place where lunch on the desk has become a way of life. Where have those long, relaxed lunch breaks disappeared, I wonder.
While I break my head in front of the computer screen every day, I often think of the times gone by. My first job, my first story and the first time I saw my name in the pages of a magazine. The joy was immeasurable.
My editor at that time used to be an extremely disciplined and highly experienced lady who would accept nothing but the best. You can imagine the kind of pressure that puts on a wide-eyed fresher. The first story that I worked on was an interview with a brain tumour survivor and about how he managed to successfully conquer the disease and recover. The story was supposed to an inspiring piece that gives hope to people who suffer from similar chronic health conditions. It was a feel good story and I was quite kicked about it. I took my own sweet time to finish it. I read it multiple times and continued the process of addition and subtraction. I wanted it to be perfect.
I knew there would be mistakes and even though there was a slight worry, I was prepared for the outcome. But what came along was a total shock. My editor came striding into the room in a horrible mood with frowns on her forehead and threw the copy at me, while everybody in the room gawked at us. The sheets of paper were all over the place, full of red marks. It was like getting an exam paper back and failing miserably. She said something stern but I hardly registered it. Her harsh words hit me so hard that I wanted to quit immediately and go back to my cocoon, my college life. I cried miserably that night and wanted to stop writing all together, after being humiliated thus. It was such a stark contrast to those balmy last few days of college life, where everything was still guarded and life wasn’t so difficult.
Six years ago, where we were all so cheerful and happy, dressed up as cartoons for our farewell party and behaving like kids. After all, it was one of the last times we would get this opportunity to be totally wacky.
All the time however, I was a bundle of nerves, thinking about what life outside the premises of my college will be. No matter how lenient the teachers and non-caring the authorities were, it was still a well-guarded environment that made me feel safe and comfortable. But stepping outside into the big bad world was a nightmare I wanted to put away just a bit more.
When I first began working, I hated it. I hated the strict rules and the deadlines and how each story would take multiple rounds of edits and re-edits with very little of my thoughts remaining. I chose to fight it and stick around. I can’t decide if it was the urge to learn or the fear of moving on to other unknown spaces.
My journey in the outside world wasn’t exactly smooth but I wouldn’t even term it traumatising. It was nothing like what I had imagined. My colleagues turned into my best friends and my office became my second home, by choice.
Our farewell party ended with tears of joy and the fear of separation. After all, it would be the last time we would see each other. There were promises made, but somewhere deep inside we knew how difficult it was.
In the six years since, that I’ve been out of my cocoon, long standing relationships have broken, people have tied the knot and started new lives and some have even expanded their families with new arrivals. All this is vital information I receive from my Facebook news feed. Occasional get-togethers with a select few always ends up in discussions on how people have moved on and even changed career paths. A colourful collage of memories is created in my mind that reminds me of all the amazing things we did in college. Oh, what a beautiful time it was!
iDiva is 6 Years & Counting… There’s something wonderful about being six! Really there is. You’ve grown up, have your own voice, know exactly what you like and what you don’t. And finally… everyone’s sitting up and taking notice. Frankly, we’re loving the attention. So as we tell you what it’s like to be six, and blow out our candles with just one blow (‘coz we’re not five anymore), we want you to join in with your great 6 Year Story. Write in to us at idivaeditor@gmail.com and win goodies from us!
More On >> Work & Life
