Prism of Life
“Ohh, that’s rather brave of you. I would not know what to do with all the time. I don’t think I am meant for staying at home cooking and cleaning. Have you thought of what you will do with all the time? It is easy to get used to the lazy and inconsequential life of a housewife. Also, be careful with the ‘chicken-feed’”, she quipped.
The tranquil disposition and cheerfulness that I had recently acquired in the light of the big decision of my life seemed to quickly dissipate. It was soon replaced with the familiar feelings of anxiety and panic. She was not wrong. A few years earlier, I could see myself throwing off these remarks on a Saturday afternoon while intensely gazing at the screen to find what was wrong in the blessed code. The transition of that passionate and nerdy, working-on-weekends 20’s something girl to the tranquil stay-at-home woman did not happen ‘one fine day’.
My mother grew up in the 60s in semi-urban India. She had a reasonably good education and was adequately smart to land a job in the small town. My father waltzed along leading her into marital bliss and as a side-effect, also leading her to a different city. As a consequence, she had to give up her job and never managed to have another one, thanks to my brother and me tugging along in a matter of few years. My father’s judicious use of his income guaranteed a good education for us, with all our needs met adequately. All in all, it was a happy and content life for all of us in it. Once I was about the age that I started my senior grade school, I could sense that my mother began encouraging me to be self-reliant. Discussions about my studies and future plans post school also included a gentle tutoring about the importance of having a job and ability to earn, irrespective of what I choose to study. ‘You should not have to ask another person for the smallest need that you have’, she remarked. The message that I heard was — “Do not end up like me!”. Of course, the 15-year-old me was not keen on these life lessons.
The years passed and I found myself on the brink of my first job having acquired an Engineering degree, the path oft travelled among the middle class of Indian youth in recent years. The financial flexibility bolstered my naïve enthusiasm about my work and my devotion towards it. It was a happy coincidence that I also did enjoy the actual work. It seemed to instill in me a confidence I never had in my entire life until that point. Was it the fact that someone was interested and willing to listen to my views or the autonomy I had on my project? I do not know but it seemed to make me value myself and my opinions. The newly enlightened and judgmental me took the whole “Work is worship” a little too seriously and casted almost accusatory glances at the ones who refrained from it or did not treat work the way I did — placing it on this high pedestal. All other engagements of my life, although there were not many or at least any that I could boast of, took a back seat. Like the romanticized idiocy of saying ‘Where there is love, there is anger”; this sentiment was more intense towards my fellow women. The terms ‘House-wife’, ‘home maker’, ‘non-working woman’ — I almost branded these as pejoratives.
Once the naivety wore off, self-introspection was the new hobby I acquired. The art of writing code which seemed like a creative pursuit had also transitioned to mundane administrative tasks in the guise of a senior role. There was a realization that the work and career that I held so dear were not bringing me the same joy that it did a decade and more ago. I blamed it on high expectations, entitlement and pre-mid-life crisis (sort of preparing yourself when you actually do get into the crisis) for a while. But this realization had managed to shake some of my core beliefs and it made me start questioning everything — from the trite to the terrific of life. But of course, it led me to a rendezvous with the part of my life I held in high esteem — my work.
For people who have been in corporate life for a long time, there is a likely hazard that you have been made subject to a workshop of some form of a values pyramid. Essentially you start understanding your response to certain situations and start questioning what makes you behave in the way that you do. In this endeavor, you discover the woo-hoos and boo-boos of your childhood or your environment which have somehow managed to stay with you while you ripened through age and have continued to influence your decisions. The realization that dawned upon me with this drill was that the words “Do not end up like me” had travelled with me far and long. I had always associated work with a sense of freedom. This freedom was perhaps more associated with the economics of freedom than the essence of freedom itself. I was reluctant to give it up my work since it could perhaps risk that freedom. Work had become more as a means of ensuring that pay check at the end of the month. Well, there are millions who do this on a day-today basis. Though not a revelation in any way for me or the society, it was important to recognize and actively discern it.
Work could be a passion, a gratification, a duty, a stimulus, an assignment or a chore. If the work you do could help you achieve a contented and happy life, passion or a chore (while being legal) — don’t bother to justify. And if you are among those who get vexed by the people who choose a less stimulating path or give up a good opportunity, draw up your pyramids. Choosing to spend the evening at the restaurant with your parents is as good a choice as working on a stretch assignment at work to get ‘good visibility’. This was but my first lesson in this investigation on the workings of work.
The second was harder and hit closer home. Is it ok for me to give up my work and stay at home, trying to realize and unravel my passion and prior to that, examine if it even exists? Is it ok that I would not have to worry what time I can break for lunch in between my meetings and instead take a cup of coffee for my husband as he takes his meetings during the day? Is it going to compromise my life choices and my identity as an independent woman? While these questions were pertinent, I realized that the knot I was most entangled in was how my friends, family and colleagues were going to react to this possible outcome. ‘Undeterred’ by the fact that I had a supportive and caring husband, I had saved enough to ensure that I would not feel insecure in any way. However, this idea that I could be seen as a weak woman without a job was what made me weak about this decision.
If feminism and feminists are eye-rolled by the world, Pride and Prejudice would perhaps be among the pillars at the foundation where it began (Not the movie but the English words that define the feeling). While there are many shackles to be broken and in no attempt to undermine that, it is however also important to distinguish between a shackle and an ornamental bracelet.
In the quest for making women free and independent, we seemed to have created a burden for ourselves to err on the side of caution, lest we be considered inferior. No doubt the message that my mother imbibed in me was valuable. She was probably one of the first feminists I encountered. Those early lessons in financial freedom meant that I was cautious with my choices and invested for a safer future and save up for a rainy day. It gave me the foundation to be a confident woman who could be successful at her job, earn a living, build a family and also self-introspect and redo the parts that she thought was not working to her liking. In essence, she did not really tell ‘Do not end up like me’. She just guided me to be a self-assured woman like herself.
That is how my metamorphosis came to be, with work and feminism being the two flavors that enriched it. It has been a month that I took a break from work and love that I made that choice. Once in a while, there is an odd comment or thought that disturbs that ‘tranquil disposition and cheerfulness’. I am allowed that during the one-month period. Aren’t I?
Have I given up on working? Of course not. Just appreciating the opportunity of being able to take out time to try other endeavors and find the next work that pulls me in — ‘a passion or a stimulus or an assignment’ that can also bring in the chicken feed. For now, I am happy to hang out with my mother who is delighted that I have all this time now to spend with her, without having to look up into the cursed calendar.
“If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power to be self-defining, her agency.”
― Bell Hooks