Afterall, What’s In An Imported Toilet Paper?

Long long ago, but not too long ago, I was working with a ‘Global’ Investment Bank, my first stint of the alleged ‘deluxe’ lifeshtyle. Working on a posh floor with centralized AC, never-seen ceramic toilets, imported toiled-papers, phuket ka coffee, masala-tea, dip-tea, Horlicks (this wasn’t there, I just made it up, hehehe….poda!), breakfast, lunch, dinner, subsidized snacks, occasional team lunch, team dinner (I never knew what these starters, main courses and finger bowls were), frequent outing aka “Team building exercises”, cabs coming to pick me up and Sumo’s to drop me down, photos and their forwards to the entire friendlist (Trivia - my last passport size photo was taken 3 years ago) and an ID card hanging down like a woman’s mangalsutra, and legacy systems honestly unheard of. A free debit card for drawing my not-so-huge pay check, complimentary credit card (to display it to the fellow shopper when I unfold my wallet), a 5-day week, english-speakin’ folks with friggin’ accents, ‘first-name’ adressing (coz everyone is a jackass, so why offend the word SIR?), transparent management culture and open-door policies with Saint-gobain cabins/cubicles/compartments (whatever you call it, shit is always shit), 360-degree feedback (being fucked from all known directions), and a promising career full of broken promises.

More importantly, it meant commanding respect in the neighborhood, and cousins being squeezed by their Dad’s - “Look at your cousin, he is earning Rs. xxxxx.00, and you….huh??”
That’s no pleasure for me anymore. Yes, not A-n-y-m-o-r-e !!

But it also meant, I never knew when I would be back home, taking a heavy toll on my mother’s health, coz she had to get up early to cook food for my dad, be awake till midnight to open the door for me and do the essential tending to me to allay my fatigue (fruits, milk, et al). No physical work, hence (logically) plumpiness followed (‘obese’ for puritans!). Working, when the world is asleep and sleeping, when the world is awake. The baseless performance appraisals and the unhealthy competition. Taking your manager’s side and politically-correct ass-licking (I mean the metaphorical one). Wearing a dress my employer states in those photocopied papers called company policies, expressing myself in a language my employer wants me to, and swallow the food the recommended caterer cooks.

I conformed to everything and became what they call a Decent, Dignified and Dedicated Professional. Decent, for I wear what they want, Dignified for I speak what they wanna hear, Professional for they never heard me crib (I do this a lot more when Smirned-offf..!) and Dedicated coz I always bragged about my goals and prepared many PPTs emphasising project goals. Now, I have my bank account with golden previliges, my own room for privacy, my personal wardrobe and what not.

So, What’s the big deal? Everything was fine, but I was not happy. Deep inside, I knew I was in trouble, it was aching. I left the job (Of course, not to do charity work, but to include three more letters beside my name and earn more bucks by advising on how to improve the sales of International brands of Underwears, Hernia-mesh and Hemmoroid pills or to crunch those numbers for the investments made by some damn mongrel abroad, aka ‘Client’)

Just started realising what I was losing, and what I was not gaining….

If you had the patience to read so far, I bet, you might have been, may be, bitten by the same MNC bug or a species thereof.

I know now, by default, I can be a hypocrite, wear a dirty smile, flatter people and be a professional. I lost my innocence, confidence, self-esteem, inquisitiveness to ask questions, express myself. Its been a long time I smiled with tears in my eyes and laughed till my stomach ached. Its been a long time since I have truly been on my needy friend’s side, its been a long time I trusted someone, its been a long time I have been myself. I Am Lost….

Yet, my past is still in my memories; want to go back to that. A life where anything tucked in is formal, tucked out is casual. Polishing the boots just needs a rubbing by the socks (left boot on the right socks and vice versa), grooming means shampooing, occasions necessitating shaving, cousin’s old clothes adding to the wardrobe (enough care taken not to wear the same when I visit the cousin ), and “Home, Sweet Home” was like, sweets are meant for guests, personal vehicle is dad’s cycle (remember the Hero cycles, Rani Muhkerjee), and the most precious the entire family sleeps together in one room, with me and my sibling underneath the fan, my granny to my right and dad to my left. My mom occasionally (coz, I sleep sound), pulling over me the bedsheet to prevent mosquito bites, Sunday’s sumptuous Lunch in the den (coz, fathers are Lions) and mom eating less just to ensure dad, me and my sibling have enough. Only counselor being my dad, girl friend being my granny, trustee being the mother and a cute envious sibling (coz, I felt parents love her more than me).

I don’t cherish what I gained, but I do regret what I lost…