The ex-reporter’s story.

Hello to all reading this, and months have passed since I cracked my knuckles and decided to pen down the various thoughts that have been floating inside my head. And so, I wanted to get down to writing about one important chapter of my life from May to October this year- when I was a journalist for a period of 5 months. I studied journalism for three years only to quit my job after a short period of employment, after I found out that my heart wasn’t there. Fellow reporters may sheepishly smile, thinking I was not cut out to be one among them- the guardians of truth and justice, the individuals who wield their pens and paint reality in its garish entirety. I had bowed down to pressure in just a few months, and was weak. I was disillusioned with not the industry, but myself. I loved reading and writing since a young age, when books made for better companions, and a notebook would be the only object I could express my feelings of angst or general wonder through. It was only natural that I opted for journalism in college while most of my school mates went on to study engineering, but I had never seen it coming. The three years in college were not a breeze, and for the first time in my life, I harbored an inkling of irritation for writing. Put through countless assignments that required me to not be languid but crisp with words, it was agony as I like to be flowery and descriptive with my language. 


Post college- from May to October 2014, was the period where my college education consisting of years of pouring over notes and wasted tears from the stress were disregarded. On the job, it was like learning from scratch and I entered the world of being one among the employed classes. Being a reporter was not easy, as it required me to do the one thing I dreaded- constant communication with strangers. More days were spent travelling on my scooter, a thin layer of dust coating my face after hectic travelling under Chennai’s unrelenting sun. A pen and a small notepad would be ready at hand, with cramped fingers taking down frantic notes and quotes at all times. There were so many moments spent waiting along with my phone, making calls to my sources at all times and numerous top-ups to keep my phone’s talk-time balance from not falling into bankruptcy.  


But there have been good moments too- I met a really good individual who went on to become one of the closest people in my life and who accepted me with all my bluntness in tow. Memories ping in my head, where endless cups of sugary tea and melt-in-the-mouth butter biscuits helped in forming a solid bond with my friend. I learnt that people were not intimidating as I thought they would be if I introduced myself as a journalist and asked for help, and talking to strangers was not as difficult as I thought it would be. I got to interview artists, who were not very well-known but possessed a powerhouse of talent, and attend events that opened up my senses. I learnt to get out of my comfort zone, to accomplish tasks well within deadlines and that I was decent at editing as well as writing.   

But the one greatest lesson I learnt from the job was that it was okay to question choices, like my employment as a journalist. I let go of Pressure and Deadlines, the two devils that hovered and hummed around my shoulders and weighed me down, and improved my language and people skills. I learnt that though the pay was meagre, there were people who took what I wrote seriously- who made me feel like I had brought about a change, however minor it may have been. I gave up the job for a reason- I realised that there are two types of writers- the journalists whose allies are precision and accuracy, to keep information objective and free from any personal touches, and the dreamers with so many ideas, thoughts and emotions floating inside their heads, like balloons waving gently in the air and finding solace in words, expressions full of flourishes. I belong to the latter category, and my short stint as a reporter made me realise that.

I was an insider who stepped out, with no definite plans in the future being foreseen. But I am enjoying the lack of urgency and the leisure at which I can now find out my true calling- I like the view better from here.         

 

And I stopped to smell the roses.

That title must sound very familiar to you, reader. You must have had somebody even tell you this at some point of your life, when you were rushing about to make all your ends meet and were in the frenzy of things. I work as a reporter, and I always sweat the small stuff and hardly ever have time to relax. So, on a Saturday morning when everyone was lazing and lolling about in my house, I was at work. I took a deep breath and thought about the things that could be called the simple pleasures that life showers upon us, materialistic or not. These actions, events and objects, they may be transient but in that moment, they dull life's arduousness. But, you ask me, what are they? And here, I pull out some moments from the recesses of my brain:

RTO Beach, Thiruvanmiyur. This was during noon time, and this calmed my frayed nerves during my license exams. 

The blush of the moon- Elliot's beach, Besant Nagar.

The food that I devoured at Madras Pavilion, ITC Madras. That one night, I forgot to count my calories. 

The chirp of birds early in the morning, signifying the stifling of night's ominous mood, gently brushed aside by the gentle rays of the morning's hand. The curling of your palm around the cup of coffee/tea and the first sip you take that warms your throat. The rustle of newspapers, as your fingers clasp with a certain familiarity the end of the pages, ready to take in whatever news the world has to offer you. The freshness that envelops your body after a bath, when you feel like your worries melted away under the cascading of water over you. The taste of the first bite of food when you are hungry, and the subsequent feeling of pleasure that comes after. The joy of seeing a dog with a wagging tail and a stuck-out tongue, and feeling your mood lift up. The curling up on your bed or on the couch to read your favorite book or magazine, and deeply inhaling the musty smell. The melting of chocolate on your tongue, soft and delicious. Eating toasted bread with pats of butter spread across generously, and feeling like that maybe, heaven does exist. The pitter patter of rains outside your window, and sipping hot beverage and smiling at the coolness that tinges the air. When you see time move quickly while at work, and knowing that the end of the day is not far away. Performing a physical activity, and feeling fit for those fleeting minutes. Your mother's or grandmother's sweets twinkling at you invitingly during festivals. Finding solace in quiet gardens or parks as you let yourself be awed by nature's demure beauty. Finding that item of clothing that is tailor-made for you and well within your budget while shopping. Biting into a pizza and feeling the cheese explode in your mouth, and leaving you aching for more. The brush of flower petals against your skin, and the gentle tickle that feels like the caress of nature. Sitting on the beach as you watch the waves crash upon the sands, and wonder what other mysteries it holds deep within as the salty air tousles your hair. When you are home alone and do whatever you want to, feeling all grown up and responsible. Touching the hair on a baby's head, and smiling at the softness like it has been spun out of clouds and silk. Seeing your article published in the newspaper, magazine or website and feeling a sense of elation coursing through you, and feeling like your life is instantly better. The smile that your first salary brings to your lips, and knowing that you are now financially independent. Lazy weekends, where you just lie on your bed and do nothing and finding a certain calmness in the inactivity. Watching a movie with your family, and sharing popcorn and smiles. The funny joke you come across, and belly-shaking laughter, pink cheeks and happy-tears that follow. Finding that one song or tune that perks you up, and humming it while a smile plays on your lips secretly. Immersing your hand in a bucket of water, and finding an oddly relaxing sensation take over yourself (If you have not tried this, please do not miss it!) Looking at childhood photographs, and realising with a certain twang of pride and nostalgia that the beautiful baby smiling without a care in the world is you. The perfect selfie, and the number of likes that you get on a social media platform, whether you admit to this or not. The wind that sweeps through your hair when you travel in a scooter/bike/car and feeling like you're the hero/heroine in a movie. Doing that one activity that you struggled to do in the past, and finding that it comes so naturally to you now. When someone compliments you unexpectedly, and the happiness that glows pink on your cheeks and lights up your eyes. When you stretch your body after a long day of work, and feel the soreness and tiredness leave. And when your head rests on your pillow and you snuggle under your blanket, you are lulled into sleep by the gentle whirring of the fan and its cool air. You close your eyes and know that maybe, just maybe, if you noticed and dabbled in the small things that are innocent and pleasurable at its very core, life would not seem so difficult. After all, if I stopped and smelt the roses, so can you.

Too bogged down to give a title and all.

Today has been just like the past few days since my last semester of college ended- boring. The only thing I look forward to is going for walks with my cousin sister in the evening, where we pursue fitness and gab nineteen to the dozen. So as I returned home from my evening walk, I get a message saying that the semester exam results are out. I log in to the mostly inaccessible college intranet website smoothly, and view my results. "Hmm, A and above in everything", says my mom with a relaxed look on her face and walks out of the room. I'am by now nonchalant to the whole result frenzy, and just shrug my shoulders at nobody in particular. But something within me is unsettled, something that has been nagging me in the recesses of my brain for the past three months. I choose to face this dodgy demon now- it is the feeling of uncertainty. I login to Facebook immediately, and see that my classmates have posted happy statuses declaring themselves to be graduates, and there is virtual bonhomie. But I see a certain pride in their statuses, which I lack and I envy them for that. "They've figured out what they are going to do with their lives, and look at you! Aimless, aimless fool!", my mind throws at me. Most people have by now figured out whether they're going to study abroad or work, and where they are going to become more accomplished. But I feel scared because of the uncertainty of it all- I plan to work but do not know where, and I doubt my writing abilities. My body is slumped in favour of total relaxation, but my mind is in overdrive. I search for a word or two to describe my sense of self, and with dismay I find that it is "direction-less and lazy". The very two things that I despise in others, and I see it in myself. Have you ever felt that moment when you feel like you're trying really hard yet not hard enough? That's where I am right now, in limbo, hanging in between the light of figuring out my career and the dark of just being a college pass out with no aim. I'am sure there are a few souls like me who will agree with me when I say that it is highly frustrating when an adult asks you very casually, "Enna ma, what are your plans after this?" My innards are fraught with dread and anxiety, but externally I maintain a calm poise. I tell them that I plan to work in media field. Cue next irritating response or question, always alternating between "Oh, where? Hope we'll see you in the TV soon, hehe!" and "Why are you not studying a PG, ma?!" I want to shout that I do not bloody know where I am going to sit and screw my brains out due to work, and that I was not enthusiastic about a PG. Is it normal to not have your life figured out in this important passage of time, where everybody except me seems so sure of where they are progressing? It might sound overly dramatic when I say this, but I felt a faint voice screaming inside me due to the frustration. Because it feels like I take a step backward every time another young person like me knows what they are going to do next in life. I feel under-accomplished and like a dunce, and those breezy and emphatic articles flooding the internet talking about how it is okay to have your 20s figured out do not help me in the least. To put it simply in one sentence, "I do not want to feel like a failure." If I had a rupee for every career-related thought that plays with my mind and my peace, I'd be a crorepathi and would be able to set up my own magazine. If only, *sigh*.