One year

 It's been one year since the incident that led to a everlasting change in my life. An year of the lowest I had ever been.An year of recovery where it is not yet over but I am happy to be alive. Just alive but not exactly happy. An year where I came to know who my true friends are. I am still struggling with my every day life, finding it difficult to say words properly and still having difficulty in getting proper sentences but I am striving every day.

It's been a year of stroke affected food habits high restrictions on things I used to take lightly before. 

I am still trying to get sentences together but I am getting there. I have a long way to go...but I will be there

work-life balance

I work in an institution that talks highly about work- life balance.

They exhibit the importance of taking care of our family by posting us in different centres every 3 years

My supervisor starts 'whatsapping' me as early as 7am about the tasks and the targets while I'm busy in the kitchen not realising that others have more to life than just work. And of course as per the company policy, WhatsApp is not an official mode of communication.

Everyday, there is some 'login day' and if not achieved what follows is the most demeaning mode of meetings where a human is ridiculed infront of all her colleagues. Somehow, this is an acceptable norm here. 

The concept of enjoying my work is non existent and I no longer enjoy going to my work place

All these thought have been looming in my head for a very long time when I heard the news about a colleague/ friend. A gentleman, a senior, a soft spoken guy who never got involved in any branch politics and mainly kept to himself has been pushed to the edge of taking his own life due to work pressure. He had hardly 10 months of service left and this single thing is what people will recollect of him and not the 30+ years of untarnished work he has done 

Sad state of affairs with no hopes of recovery

I wish I could do something to change the way it's progressing but I am just getting pulled deeper into this shift with no way out

The forgotten art of writing letters

Writing letters...I would say it's a dying art. It's sad the beauty of a well drafted hand written letter will not be available to the younger generation.

The only post we recieve nowadays are the bills and notices, i can't remember the last time I got a well crafted personal letter from anyone. There was a time when I would recieve beautiful long letters from my friends but it no longer exists. 

The world of texting, WhatsApp and other technologies have taken over our lives. I agree that it's real time, convenient and we can share more than just words. Express through photos and emoticons. But i still miss the beauty of a letter or a note that's complete with small gifts or the small hearts we drew before emoticons came.

I wish I could write to someone like before and they would reply to me in their new letterpad which smells like roses and is filled with love. Not a love for me alone but for the forgotten art of writing letters

I dreamt of you

I dreamt of you last night

How you stood under a tree

And waited for me to see

I dreamt coz i saw your name

In another dame

A name i try to forget

But lives in my breath

I dreamt of you last night

And i wanted to run to you

Just to feel you

To hug you, to kiss you

To whisper " I missed you"

I dreamt of you last night

And i didn't want to wake up

For the fear of loosing you...again

hectic day ends

It's been a hectic day at work with lots of stupidities and pressures. Then there are some unwanted pressures created for the sake of irritating logical human. 

At the end of the day, after some 3 cups of coffee and a bajji, the only thing I needed was air. I was suffocating and i needed some fresh air. What a better way than a walk in the opposite direction where the Lord of Thrissur resides. While everyone visits him with prayers I went there to relax, to breathe, to absorb some sunlight and warmth of friends.

And the best end of the hectic day has been a glass of spirit, sprite and chips spent in front of the idiot box

July 1, 2022

Every year July 1st is celebrated in our bank as the bank formation day and in my district as the district formation day. This July 1st was also the same till around 11.50am.

My friend called me and informed me about a transfer order just uploaded which says that I have been transferred from the present post to that, a branch located in the heart of my town. I was happy and elevated. All this was overshadowed by the fact that i was in my car going to hospital coz my mom was having cardio issues. My prime concern was about her health. I was recieving lots of calls from my colleagues but was not able to attend. Once the doctor ruled out any serious problem i was calm and returned all the calls

Next came a call from one of my association friend/ mentor who mentioned " double dhamaka". I was not able to make any sense of it so I asked him specifically what it was and he told me that i have been rewarded for my work in the present posting. This was an extraordinary news for me and I couldn't believe it. 

My mind travelled to all the misunderstandings and problems I have faced during my tenure in this posting. The pain i endured and the sacrifices my family made but I should say if this day has come into my life it is only because I have a wonderful team with me in this branch and also all the years of mentoring i have recieved from everyone throughout my career

As I step out of this branch today I say I am lucky to have worked with some of the most wonderful geniune people who are dedicated to a common cause:

service 

Thank you team, you shall forever be a memorable posting for various reasons including this 

Mourn the living

I came across a poem by Nikita Gill about mourning the living.

Mourning is always associated to the dead but many a times to dead people. What about all the other deaths, like a dead relationship or a dead marriage or a dead thought or a dead dream

Can't we mourn those too. Why do we never do it? Why don't we revisit our relations or our thoughts or our dreams but we do revisit the memories of the dead person. We try to relive them and we enjoy it but can we revisit our dead relations and say we do enjoy it.

Quite a funny fact that both are our past. A person who is dead to the world but alive in our memories can make us bitter happy  but a person who is alive in the world and dead to us makes us bitter.