Colaba. Regal Cinema stands tall across the Prince of Wales museum. Wide roads. The massive circle in the middle diverts traffic in different directions — one road leads to my office building, the others to various parts around Regal Cinema. I was frightened, anxious, and timid and did not explore where those roads went. But I was happy to be in this part of Bombay. The historic buildings brought vivid imaginations of what it must have been to live and work in this area. I loved that feeling of history, mixed with my memories of drinking beer at Leopold's, bunking college and watching a matinee with my girlfriend, and walking those roads as a teenager during my first summer job. These memories brought a sweet sensation and feelings of unease simultaneously, just like eating a methi laddu.
My first real relationship, my first date, my first feeling of total hopelessness and desperation and wanting to end it all post the heartbreak all had this neighborhood as the epicenter. I walked in shame, fear, and despair for my job interview, not knowing that this would be my workplace for the next two years.
"I thought you were a weirdo," she said. This conversation was many months later when I had become quite pally with the office receptionist. Her frank feedback startled me. Was my insanity so apparent I thought I was a master at putting on a mask? She was referring to my first interaction with her during my job interview.
I slowly settled down in my new job. Little by little, I regained my confidence. I never said no to any task assigned to me. I always prayed, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." This Bible verse gave me courage. The central office included me in a team that toured three states to train senior management. You bet I was scared, but I said yes. Fortunately, they gave me a tiny part, an introductory session, and the much older and more experienced audience were very kind to me, encouraging and patiently listening to my two-minute input. I was so happy on this tour. I gained new experience and exposure. I was fascinated with the trainers; most of them held a Ph.D. degree, and I was determined to be a trainer. I thought for others to take me seriously, I needed a Ph.D.
The receptionist had a few neighborhood friends who would often drop by during lunch when the boss was away. There was one particular friend who looked a lot like my ex. I immediately felt attracted to her and was terrified of the implications simultaneously. Anyways I thought she wasn't interested. I overheard her talking with the receptionist of some cute boy at church with whom she wanted to speak. The two of them were giggling as they talked about him. I was sure I did not have a chance. Anyways after the traumatic breakup, I decided that I could not do this relationship thing again. It hurt too much, and the split pushed me deeper over the edge. I just wanted to concentrate on work and gain mental stability. In the subsequent days, I began desperately seeking an opportunity to enroll for a Ph.D. I cracked a competitive exam, and they admitted me to an M.Phil. program, but the stipend was too less. My family needed my earnings, so I did not accept the offer. A few days later, I got an opportunity to join as a temporary faculty in a college. My employer said it would give me a chance to have a feel for academics and then decide if I wanted to pursue a Ph.D. I grabbed the offer. The salary, too, was three times what I then earned.
One evening, after joining my new place of work, I got a call from the receptionist's friend with whom I had a crush. I was surprised. She had never interacted with me outside the office environment and never phoned me. I had never given her my phone number, so I was even more surprised. She told me that she had enrolled in a master's program. I wondered why she was telling me about it. And then it clicked. Maybe she liked me but felt inadequate like I felt around her. I still was too scarred from my breakup and too scared for a new relationship that I spoke very formally and disconnected. I then recalled how she had talked about her Portuguese ancestry and how she was part European. She was very fair-skinned, and it made sense, but little did I realize that she had possibly shared the information about her Portuguese lineage to compensate for her feelings of inferiority.
I never heard from her again, and I was too scared to try and be in contact. I soon was on a roller coaster ride in my new job as a temporary faculty. They were possibly the best days of my life. The only bad memories were when I let my insecurities and inferiority take over. I felt like an imposter in this new job profile. I was intimidated by some students my age and those who were far more experienced and knowledgeable than I was. A few interactions in the background of these insecurity demons have left scars in my psyche that still haunt me. But the joy outweighed the wounds.
If today I had to do things differently, I would possibly begin with my self-worth. I am not comfortable with myself. In my mind's eye, I am a social reject and a failure. My family background, my struggle with professional and academic losses, and my emotional struggles make me want to prove myself to everyone, myself included. It was ironic that I chose Colaba to be the place I would find employment. Colaba comes under Ward "A" in the administrative zones of Bombay. My choice of employment location was symbolic of my unconscious striving to be the top dog. Aiming for a Ph.D. appears to be motivated by this same need to be the best so that I would be accepted. The fear of a relationship was the flip side of acceptance, namely fear of rejection. I did not take myself for who I was and couldn't believe anyone else could. I guess that's why I felt like an imposter during my stint as a temporary faculty. This insecurity led to some painful memories, like me trying to assert my authority over students almost the same age as me, demanding respect because of my position and not because I had earned it by my contribution to their education experience. Those insecure encounters still inspire lots of shame in me.
Suppose I am comfortable with myself, warts, blemishes, and all; I would never need to strive for acceptance, fear rejection, be hyper-competitive, or over-ambitious to prove myself. I would enjoy the ride, be me, and become me. I guess that's how I would be happy and spread happiness. We may see this simple lesson of self-acceptance abundantly in nature and the life of great men and women. Maya Angelou said, "A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song." It sings because it's a bird, and in being true to itself, it blesses not just itself by getting a mate or guarding its nest but blesses us all who listen in joy. In the words of the famous bard, "To be, or not to be, that is the question." Yes, not "to have" or "to do," but "to be me" is the question and the answer!
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