Cross Legged Thoughts

I sit at my desk, bring the lazy white-butt cigarette to my lips, inhale, shut my eyes, exhale, open my eyes and pop in a dark chocolate. Ummmm. But I am not completely comfortable yet. So I cross my legs, struggling to fit into the tricky wheeled chair and start typing and thinking and smoking and typing – all at once.
I like sitting cross-legged I realise. I do it when I type, I prefer the sofa side in a restaurant so I can cross my legs and eat, I like to cross my legs while I pray, I don’t mind being the only person in the house-party who volunteers to sit on the floor in the absence of enough seating space, I also like sitting like that in the car, at my office desk, at casual meetings, at a jenga game and anywhere else that it is possible. Give me my comfort position and I am happy.

Anyhow. So I quit my job – walked away a job that allowed me to slot and choose and watch movies and give promo briefs with a very comfortable routine & with weekends off. For many it was a dream job – ‘Wow, you work at Zee Studio. That must be fun. Blah. Blah’. Yes, so it was initially – and then monotony set in and frustration of not being able to do what I like bugged me enough to just leave. Recession, bad economy, rising prices aside, I still feel that I am meant to work somewhere where it allows me to write. I may be wrong you know – I may be really bad, maybe no one wants to give me a chance or a job, maybe if I attempt to write a book I will get dismally rejected by the publishers, maybe if I try my hand at a magazine I will suffer from a writer’s block on a daily basis. OR maybe I am good, maybe practice will make me better, maybe I do start doing what I actually enjoy and not go to office to just do a damn ‘job’. But we won’t know till we try, right?

Parents threw a fit when I decided – and it wasn't an easy decision, mind you – it gets very comfortable to work in a place which gives you such flexibility and such fun colleagues and you get into a comfort zone after 2 years in an office – where you know everyone and everyone knows you (at least by face if not by virtue). The chai wala knew exactly how I take mine, the canteen people were habituated by my sugarless mosambi juice, the ex-boss knew me inside out and became my agony aunt plus mentor plus super friend, the colleagues knew my quirks, the common enemies were identified, the confidants selected– its not easy to think of starting afresh – new desk, new people, new colleagues, new unknown devils, new café menu, new area, new afternoon lunch places, new roads, new bathrooms, new dress codes and more than all that, a new profile altogether. So I think it was a brave, brave step towards at least attempting to find my calling. If I fail there are always more similar jobs, if I don’t then hurrah for the switch. But then again, what else is life if not a series of heartbreakingly tough risks?

I can take this risk because M is with me – here, there or anywhere. I get encouraged to pursue literature because Miss P is there to yell at me and make me see sense. I feel confidant to take this step because my brother who is 19 acts like he is 39 and says he will stand by me come-what-may. I feel incredibly lucky & blessed. Many people have to do a 9-5 job – some like it, some don’t, some do it by choice, some don’t, some need the position, some need the money and some just need to keep themselves occupied. I need neither and if I don’t make the effort now to do what I like, then I would be a complete idiot.

So here’s a toast - to new ventures, new people, new workstations and many many new words.
It’s a new beginning in my life. All good wishes (and maybe some leads) would be appreciated!