When I was pursuing my M.Sc. in Pune University, I had once nicked my left forearm. The cut was so small that I disregarded it, not realizing that over the days that followed, it had festered into a pus-filled mess that made my entire arm swell like a loaf. I kept ignoring it in spite of the excruciating pain, and even after the arm had been rendered practically useless. I would have continued ignoring it had my mom & dad not visited me and rushed me to the doctor. Unfortunately, the pus had reached the bone and had to be surgically removed.

When the doctor told me that I could have lost my arm if I had delayed this visit for a few more days, the hilariously gruesome first thought that came to my mind was, thank God it’s the left hand. What could have been healed within a few days if I had just invested a few minutes in tending to the small nick, had to be operated under general anaesthesia followed by weeks of post operative dressings that involved a painful procedure of stuffing in and pulling out a wad of gauze from the cavity formed after the pus had been removed.

And just like that, I learnt how a stitch in time saves nine.

While I did put my learning to good use, no matter how many times you put in a stitch to save nine, a day comes when the fabric gets frayed and can no longer hold on your stitches. Such is the case with life and you can never be prepared for everything that it has to offer – especially the calamities that visit you unannounced like the death of a loved one.

A few years later when my dad passed away, I would dream about him every night and wake up every morning with a fresh recollection of the fact that he was no more. I dreaded going to sleep, fearing those dreams which fooled me into believing that everything was normal because it was terrifying to experience the same shock over & over again every morning.

During one of those days, a government official on electoral duty visited our house for some survey. When I asked him what he wanted, he said “please send your father to talk to me” to which I responded “I am afraid cannot send my father to talk to you, but I can definitely send you to talk to my father”. Later on, when he learnt that my father was no more, the meaning of my rather caustic response dawned on him and he made a beeline for the door never to appear again. Afterwards, my mom, brother & sister had a good laugh at what I had said.

And just like that, I came to terms with my loss and moved on.

Since an early age, I have been extremely cognizant of injustice, especially against the poor, downtrodden and voiceless of society. Even as a child, I have raised my voice when I have seen people misbehaving with beggars or throwing stones at stray dogs. I have defended my friends against bullies in school. I have been particularly protective of my family. I have had fights with strangers on behalf of my dad. No wonder he called me his little shield. In general, I have been pretty fearless… up until the time I became a corporate employee when I was spending every moment wondering whether I am getting it right, whether I am good enough, whether I have said something wrong, whether I still have my job?

A good many ups & downs later, I did get my bearings right, but I soon realized that the time I started at the bottom of the corporate ladder was probably the best time because I was responsible only for myself and no one else really bothered about how my work was affecting them. When I started climbing up the ladder though, I realized that there were a number of people below me trying to pull me down, and an equal number above me trying to kick me off especially if I raised my voice even a notch. Due to a multitude of reasons however – I was the only earning member of my family, my brother & sister were still studying, my mom had retired, we had loans to pay, so on & so forth, for the first time in my life, for the larger good, I kept my mouth shut and suffered silently through it all.

A time comes however when you have successfully made it through most of the ladder and are now in a state of self-actualization where the purpose of your work is no longer making money but to build a better workplace, become more customer centric and give back to the society. When such a stage is reached, your original passion of fighting relentlessly against injustice is reignited and when it happened to me, I spoke up against prejudice, I spoke up against a corrupt system, I spoke up in spite of the fact that all the odds were against me.

And just like that, I got my voice back.

There are certain unique situations that you encounter in life however, which you are not able to comprehend and voice out even if you want to. That’s probably because either you are not aware, you are ill-informed, you are ahead of your times, or you just shut your own voice and push it deep inside your heart because you know that no one will understand.

This happens when you feel or are made to feel like a misfit because you do not conform to societal norms like getting married at the “right” time, having children, continuously acquiring bigger jobs with fatter salaries, bigger houses, bigger cars, being well-known in social circles and constantly projecting your bright side on other people’s faces. On the contrary, a person who is not married, does not have children, is not quite aspiring for bigger jobs or actively pursuing fatter salaries, has stayed in studio apartments & used public transport for a major part of her life and is now talking about her “other side” does not quite fit in right?

On the flip side, I am proud of the fact that I will be leaving a comparatively smaller carbon footprint behind me. What I am also proud about is the fact that I have no more qualms about declaring that I am asexual, I have no maternal instincts and I no longer feel the need to “fit in”, but I daresay that I tried hard once upon a time. The fact that I can still forge close friendships, I love children and I have in fact moved into a bigger apartment, the liberty to be able to live the life I love and to be able to talk about it feels like setting myself free.

And just like that, I had liberated myself.

To be able to voice out your opinion and accept yourself as you are, you need a strong support system which in my experience, is in terribly short supply in spite of all the efforts showcased by corporates. A typical D&I team does not always have representation across all generations, all ethnicities, all members of the LGBTQIA+ community and the differently abled. The reason for this is, there is no real awareness created, there is no data collected, there are no surveys that go out, and no one makes a genuine attempt to find out whether you are in a minority, age wise or otherwise and it is mostly “assumed” that all of us are leading happily normal lives, feeling absolutely included in the organization when in reality the exact opposite is true. Driving inclusivity is thus reduced to a “tick in the box” activity rather than a genuine movement to identify & address real issues at the grassroot level.

Unfortunately, not everyone has the courage to speak up and the fear emanates out of their various needs – the need to fend for themselves & their families, the need to fit into societal norms, the need to survive in an unforgiving world and the need to leave behind a legacy. The more needs people have & the more they achieve to fulfil these needs, the more they stand to lose and this anxiety prevents them from voicing out their opinions loud & clear.  

For many years I had been wanting to write a blog and for many years I have been putting it aside in the face of the daily rigmarole of life. Moreover, I was not sure what I wanted to write about. But when I had liberated myself from the fear of being judged, when I had found my voice, and when I was ready to move on, I was finally ready to write about my life, my experiences, my losses, my successes, my failures & the lessons that I learned. My articles are the stitches holding the fabric of my life together and this was the story I wanted to tell.

And just like that, I was on the other side.

“And just like that, I repurposed my pain.”

– Carrie Bradshaw, And Just Like That, Season 2 Episode 1