My First Month
Friday 18 February, 2011
Her legs shook and wobbled and tears hid behind the kohl laden eyes.
There was an anticipation and confidence and all preparations had been made way in advance. The clothes were well ironed and lay perfectly in the order of use. Phone calls had been made and prayers had been done. It was time.
The time had come for a new phoenix to emerge from its ashes and the process had just been initiated. Inner ghosts that had conquered the mind and established illegal residences had to be vanquished and the rust had to be removed from the outer crusts. There had once resided in that shell a vivacious, fearless person and that person now needed to emerge from her silent retreat.
Week 1:
Every time she spoke, her heart pounded so hard that she would fear going deaf. The inner ghosts saw their troops slowly vanishing and started putting up a mutiny to retain themselves in the territory. As the battle reached its tumultuous pitch each day, her heartbeats increased and with her defences slowly reducing, tears trickled down and she rushed to the restroom to give vent to this pent up emotional turbulence inside her, far far away from the gaze of the judging eyes...
She ate alone, sat alone, almost like a new boarding school student, except that boarding school students usually get befriended by the geeky outliers.. She was surrounded by the geeks, yet it seemed like she did not fit in.. Like a non-local variable whose reference had been lost (see.. geeky!), she wandered about, trying to look smart and shiny in her new clothes and shoes, but her smile slowly started to lose its shine and worried brows started generating sharper curves.
Weeks 2 and 3:
These were possibly the toughest weeks. Everyday there were some new challenges to overcome and the toughest probably were the ones that required her to speak and communicate. How on earth would anyone understand what being surrounded 12 hours a day (because she slept the rest 12), for more than ten months in succession, in almost utter silence meant? She hopes to someday meet someone who understands; but meanwhile, she had to move on and become functional again, breathe work and inhale code, the essentials for uncontroversial immigrant survival.
Now, after four weeks, her heart still pounds, but the noises are far reduced.. all except one causes her pain. Funny how pounding hearts once in a brief while function like spring-time fluttering butterflies. They may be short lived, but usually leave a warm glow. Well, one well deserved silver lining after all!
So, what is the plan for the next four weeks, you ask? I say, it is to go as far as the path takes me.. To become a traveller and leave the sequences and consequences to the grand Designer, 'cause
"
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep...
"
