Back to Basics

Undergoing a divorce is generally a societal issue. In my rare case, it became a strictly individual one. Divorce, more than anything, like marriage, is not even a state of mind. At least that way, weddings are an event, as are the proceedings with lawyers and courts. But society does not let you forget and imposes either of the states on you like a neatly ironed cloth, fold by fold, impressing that 'you were wrong', 'you couldn't compromise', 'these days girls do not know how to adjust' and 'she is still so young'. They show pity, they create loud rumours without the politeness to notice if one involved is listening or not. Overall, they make it a nasty process, one which does become a state of mind. From which one wishes to run away. 

As did I.

Then one fine day, while listening to peacocks straining themselves out at the wonderful JNU campus, I sat with my sugarless tea and wondered, mostly about nothing. I walked up to the terrace, and braved the dogs to the rocks. I lit a cigarette and came back to my room. I had to return. I like my clothes crushed. And have them ironed when I wish to. That was me, is me. One phonecall and luck later,  I knew I was inducted as a Part-Time Teacher in the Department of English at Barasat Government College. Earlier I had taught a stint there, right after my Masters. After that I got a chance to work at Meghnad Saha Institute of Technology, and brought about fissures in marital relationships. Deep within I knew, someday, I had to face the ironmen, and impulsively or thoughtfully, I do not know which, I decided to come back. During this time I had given up alcohol. It made me feel stronger, that I could stick to a decision. One of the folds said I could not stick. 

I return to Barasat Government College today, to conduct a session on Communication Skills. Sounds a mouthful, right? Feels too, believe me. From the change in death inviting ruthless buses to soothing, royal local trains to having four Head of the Departments at Barasat, I have transformed from the caterpillar to the butterfly. I wriggled into smaller assignments at Women's College, Baghbazar, teaching PG students, as for a semester I did at Presidency, when it was not a University. It was good, the universe conspired to help me. I made friends when I taught for a tough three month stint at Basanti Debi College, and one later at St Pauls'. In between, I also did a huge course on Communication Skills for Vidyasagar College for Women, where I studied (did not). Not to mention I taught GRE at Edx Care and language at St Peters' Institution, and one very profitable teaching at ICSA, pepping up Civil Services Aspirants. Four years at Barasat and I finally cracked an interview for a full-time job at JD Birla Institute. It was paying me ridiculously well and peeling off my soul as ridiculously too. It was a return of a divorce situation. The ironmen got back, 'You are leaving a full-time?', 'Are you mad?', 'She is so inconsistent.' I hung on to my Editing from home. And landed up at Scottish Church College as a full-timer for two years against an FDP vacancy. Why am I giving such details?

Because ironmen remain, even as I teach at Scottish and take up workshops at Loreto, and now have the luxury of rejecting various other projects. Uncertainty lurks around the end of two years. Those ironmen keep asking, 'What after this?', 'Why don't you apply at CSC, PSC?' The questions never stop, their folds are never perfect enough, they are not just content. And I now do wish to either answer or justify. Now I relish, savour, take it in. Feel the flavour. I have an acquired taste. 

Today, 'basic' has a condescending undertone. But returning to them never felt so good. Like the sudden rain this morning. It woke me up. Everyday is same, everyday is new. My lesson plan is in order, what I am to wear not quite. But I will go back and give them all I have, for each little opportunity taught me the necessity of being crushed. Each crush brought in a series of fold, which I adeptly unfolded.

I wear wings instead. And though I fear to fly, I do.