Help me absolve myself of some guilt and relate with me here, okay? If you’ve newly started a stable job that gives you an income and you have no added pressure to contribute any money at home, would you or would you not spend it on expenses that you’ve been putting off for months? Fulfilling all of your “When I get a job, I’ll get this for myself” wishes? Do you not end up blowing all of your savings in the month of December and January on Christmas and New Years? Oh, did I mention that you’re 24 without a sense of any financial literacy? Fine, it may just be me. So here’s the irony, I (finally) decided, “Okay Tasneem, time to get serious, xxx is the amount you will be saving every month no matter what.” I headed to the bank, and opened another account solely for this purpose. Two days later, my boss called me inside her cabin and fired me. Was it my fault? No. Was I to bear the brunt of it? Well…
I’ve always been a spendthrift and don’t think twice before spending (read: wasting) my money on things that are absolutely unnecessary. I am aware of my flaws. I am also aware of how deep-rooted this problem is. To the extent that there are months where by the end of it I only have 55rs left in my account. Yikes, am I being too honest here? Anyway, what do I have to lose, money? Lol. So when a spendthrift like me who has gotten used to the stability of a monthly income has their biggest power taken away, no guesses as to what happens next, am I right?
Plot twist, I’m a writer. I mean, not like this was a surprise to anyone but it was as though a part of my soul leapt out of my body, shook me up and reminded me…I am a writer. I think somewhere in the race to stabilise my life, I had forgotten that this was never to be my path anyway. I had stability. I left it to pursue what truly gave me happiness. So the hell am I complaining about? I was never meant to eat sushi on weekends and explore vineyards. I was never supposed to shop for blazers and trousers, I’d be lucky if I could slap on a thrifted outfit and pass it off for ‘decent’. I had to, sooner or later, trade my stability for something a lot bigger.
Stories. Let me give myself a little credit for being a storyteller, and a committed one at that, since I was 14. That’s nearly 11 years of my life spent doing something with the utmost dedication. I may have left gyming after two months, Math after 8th Grade, or boys after 2 flings (jk mom, me? Flings? what?) but writing? It has been the only constant in my life. The only thing I’ve seen through until completion. The only thing that really makes my heart race with excitement and feel every emotion through the pages I fill. And a writer, by their very definition (coined by me so it’s not factual but you can quote me on this), is unstable. We have to be no, little bit? I mean, nobody in their right mind would dedicate their entire profession to staring at blank screens all day, in hopes of writing a few lines that would pass off as ‘mediocre’. Truth be told, I live for those mediocre lines and blank screens.
So I don’t even know where to begin being grateful for the Lokhandwalas who let me live in their house rent-free and give me food, no less than restaurant quality, might I add. This allows me to let my bank account go from 55rs to 0 and still have enough to survive long enough to pen something down…even something as blase as this blog. Which is why I am happy to be laid off, honestly. Maybe even a bit relieved. Maybe if I had to choose it, I would’ve been too scared to but now, I don’t have an option. Sometimes, being thrown in the deep end is the only way you’ll learn to swim? Who knows, I’ll let you know when I’m older and wiser. For now, I’m okay with taking it a day at a time, experimenting with new coffee recipes and writing down stories I am dying to tell.
To conclude this, you might as well hear my two cents for anyone who may find themselves in a similar situation. I know it feels like you have no direction to your life or a routine has been abruptly taken away but I truly do believe that when a door shuts, a window opens. You may not be able to see the window very well. Sometimes not even until you’re through it. But when you do trace your life back to the point where it all began, you will find yourself back at the closed door and you’d look at it very differently than you do today. I also understand that when you’re sitting in bed, watching movies all day, still in your pyjamas from the night before, that guilt strikes you hard. The feeling of being a waste of space. Suddenly you feel unworthy of breathing the air you are, as though it’s something you’re stealing. It feels wrong, it feels illegal. But take that breath anyway, you’re 24 and the only constant is that nothing is constant. It’s going to be alright.
