Starting A New Business? 7 Key Points To Keep In Mind.
Letting go and adapting to the new is something we all do, no matter how difficult it seems in the beginning. Rachna Parmar, writes a personal piece on it.
This is an interesting conversation I had with my elder son. He is almost 14 now. And, he is already wondering how he would leave his parents and go to an alien place to study. Separation anxiety is already playing on his mind. I was explaining to him that initially it will hurt, but then he will go on to have a great set of friends and rich experiences. So much so, that he may even find it difficult to come home for vacation. He didn’t buy that. To him, what matters most is living with his family! And, I had no answers to his questions about why this has to happen? Apart from saying that this is the natural cycle of life.
It did take me back to my own MBA days when for the first time I lived away from the family. My father got transferred to Ahmedabad as soon as I began the course. For the first year, my sister and I stayed together in a rented place. She was working in a large company back then. But by the second year, she had got a transfer to Ahmedabad too, and I had to now live in a PG accommodation. I remember how dad flew down, made the arrangements in a place that was close to Vile Parle station and walking distance from my college. It was the smallest house I have ever lived in. The lady of the house was an old lady and a wonderful one at that. She was great to get along with and was very friendly though I was one-third her age.
She had a tiny bedroom and living room in her house. I got the bedroom with one small cupboard and a single bed. She lived in the hall. I remember that dad spoke with her, dropped my things off and left just like that. I remember fighting back tears, as for the first time I felt so totally alone. That moment when your loved ones walk away is the hardest. I am sure, it must be tough for him as well, but he did not show it and neither did I. But, yes one adapts. And, I had a fantastic set of friends. A nosy, jealous neighbor aunty, notwithstanding, that one year was a great experience for me. I opened my first bank account and operated it. I shopped and even cooked and washed clothes. There was only a landline in those days, so my conversations with my family were really sporadic and few. I spent most of my time in college even on weekends with friends and have beautiful memories that will last me a lifetime. It was a standing joke in my college that any vacation I got even for a couple of days, I was rushing off home.
Yes, we adapt! A part of us still yearns to get back to the family fold. I was on the moon when I got a job in Ahmedabad to finally reunite with my family. But, that day in the train when I was leaving Mumbai and my dear friends, I had tears in my eyes yet again. Leaving them behind, hurt too!
I am sure when the time comes my son will adjust beautifully as well. I think it is I who will have a much tougher time though, yet again!
Cover image via Shutterstock
Rachna Parmar is a Certified Nutritionist, cookbook writer, Editor and Health Coach.
She is an enthusiastic cook, wife, fitness freak, Yoga enthusiast, and mother to two naughty sons and a Labrador. She counts reading, writing, read more...
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There are many mountains I need to climb just to be, just to live my life, just to have my say... because they are mountains you've built to oppress women.
Trigger Warning: This deals with various kinds of violence against women including rape, and may be triggering for survivors.
I haven’t climbed a literal mountain yet
Was busy with the metaphorical ones – born a woman
Fighting for the air that should have come free
And I am one of the privileged ones, I realize that
Yet, if I get passionate, just like you do
I will pay for it – with burden, shame, – and possibly a life to carry
So, my mountains are the laws you overturn
My mountains are the empty shelves where there should have been pills
When people picked my dadi to place her on the floor, the sheet on why she lay tore. The caretaker came to me and said, ‘Just because you touched her, one of the men carrying her lost his balance.’
The death of my grandmother shattered me. We shared a special bond – she made me feel like I was the best in the world, perfect in every respect.
Apart from losing a person who I loved, her death was also a rude awakening for me about the discrimination women face when it comes to performing the last rites of their loved ones.
On January 23 this year, I lost my 95 year old grandmother (dadi) Nirmala Devi to cardiac arrest. She was that one person who unabashedly praised me. The evening before her death she praised the tea I had made and said that I make better tea than my brother (my brother and I are always competing about who makes the best chai).
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