What is more important?

Here I am, finally, intruding the ‘writer’s block’. Writing about how far I’ve come from where I left last. I was in college enjoying, chilling with people I thought I would never be departed from. The ones I thought will stay forever. “We will work at the same company” “We will stay in the same apartment and go on short trips to hills and beaches” and much more. Even then we knew that none of that was going to happen. We still said that just so that we could remember those moments and smile. Just to create memories. Just to relive those through the roads in our minds. We had different dreams, we knew right from the start that we were going to be apart in the end. Still…
Where is life standing now? Are you happy the way it is? I get asked this question a lot. Honestly, I do not know how to answer. I don’t even know what to answer when people ask me “What do you keep writing in that book of yours?” How will I answer about life when I am not sure what goes on in my own mind? Too philosophical isn’t it? I know, I tend to wander while I write. I don’t think I’ll ever rectify this habit.
Anyway, let us talk about facts. I have acquired a job. A job which is no where related to the degree that I carry. Yes, my family is upset about this. My uncles have already passed me down their “much-sought-advice” on how wrong I am in leading my life. “this is the start of your career, do not spoil it” “this work is not worth it” “Helping your mom in house-hold work is better than this” “It will not make people respect you” STOP!

I know it is sad when your family is upset because of you. But it is even sadder when you family does not care enough to listen to you. To sit down with you and just listen. Listen to your dreams. Read your stories and understand what it means. Listen to what made you write those. Listen to how they inspired you. I get this question often “How and when did you start writing?” The answer will always be “I am not sure, since childhood, I guess” Now that I think to it, I know exactly how this started. My dad brought me diaries and books; my mom made me write letters to him. To write in those letters about what I wanted when he returned to us, about how I was doing, about just anything. Slowly, I realised I was not just doing that for her sake, I was doing it because I liked it. I realised this even slowly, that writing, was in fact my passion. I asked myself this question, “Can something be so important in your life, that you would be ready to give up your time with your family and just leave, without regret?” Yes, there is. And I mean it. This might sound harsh, but I think I can never be able to stop writing, but I will at a point be able to live without them. Materialistic. Maybe.

This job that I am at. Customer service in as company big as this with a low pay. I know I might not be able to reach the point where in I could achieve my dream, but at this moment. This very moment. I am writing. I am close to my love – typing letters on those pretty black keyboards. Helping people with words. It is a simple job. I am only doing what others are doing. But, the fact that I type every day, whatever it maybe, holds lot more meaning to me, than just being another advisor in customer service. I am practically living my dream. Kind of. I would say.

I live alone, yes, I know with three other girls in the same room, but still alone. I don’t yet prepare my food, but I am filling my stomach with my own money. I go back to my room, whenever I feel like. I write and read late at night or early in the morning. I sleep at what times suits best for me (just saying, the command centre decides this, not me :P). I go to places carrying a bag-pack and click pictures of pretty things on the way. I am in command of my time. I may not be living an ideal life, but I am happy. Happy in this moment being surrounded by people who listen to my stories and do not judge me (yes, this is for you, glevi). Happy in this moment being able to fulfil some part of my dream. Happy in this moment while I smile and breathe. Happy that I am not being idle, that I am for a fact helping people with the little things. I have taken more than 300 chats in the last 2-3 months, and I can ‘confirm’ that I have properly helped at-least 50 of them (I know the stats don’t say so, but ache log kaha lete hai surveys :/). How many people have you helped in the entire year? So, laying this question out to everyone who think customer service makes people not respect you. What is more important? You, respecting yourself and knowing your worth or working to achieve approval from others by doing something against your wishes.

#TG 24/11/2017