I did not update my status as we started on our exciting journey away from a city which has taken so much away from me. It was as though the city was fighting back, sneering at me, sticking it's tongue out once or twice almost as though it knew what I was about to go through. There was a PTI sit in, cutting off the main arterial road which we were to take to the airport. So we decided to call an early cab, figuring it would be better to be stuck at the departure lounge than at home.
KESC decided to remind us of one of the many reasons we were on our way to restart our lives in a strange country. In the waning light of dusk we trundled down six flights of steps with our luggage. The cabbie was an expert and managed to take us from a protest-free route. As I looked out of the car window I realized none of the scenery outside was familiar to me, we were being hastily transported through strange highways and by-allies. I felt even more alienated, as though my country had washed its hands off me. I told myself it was poetic justice that I was unable to say my last goodbyes to all the places familiar to me in this city I was 'defecting.'
There had been a heart wrenching good bye from my then husband's family, another reason for me to feel guilty for uprooting my family but I had held my nerves together. My mantra was to keep picturing a happy life and it will materialize. I do not have any friends. Never was good at keeping in touch with people for very long. Not by way of giving any excuses, but on a purely self analytical front, this personality trait of mine probably comes from having moved every six months from one geographical location to another. I said farewell to the two ladies who have bestowed me with respect that I feel I do not deserve. My children had not been to school in a little over a month and I was frantic to start my life and give them back the better conditions I had promised them. It was not to be, this time.
I wore ash grey trousers, a black dress shirt, the pearl earrings, my only buddy had given me as a parting gift and a hopeful grin as I entered my new place of work. I was introduced to the tiny lives I would be entrusted with and my plush office, as the forerunner in maintaining quality education at the early years section of an international school. I felt some of the weight on my heart lift off. My children and husband, the three individuals who had led me on this adventure sat patiently in the front office. When my children had been settled with their entrance test papers in another room, we were handed a fee challan. At first I thought I was seeing doubles and almost heard fate let out a snigger it had been holding back for so many days. I asked the secretary if perhaps she had added one too many zeros.
"No this is the fee all school teachers have to pay, it has been reduced 70 percent for employees."
Typical human reaction in the face of shocking news, denial. I proved to be quite typical that day. And so there were usual volleying of negotiations from administration to us. At one point I gave up and bought the children's books and took them with me to school, with the tiny hope that the negotiations will sway in my favor. After all this was what I had worked tirelessly for, for the past two years.
There had been a heart wrenching good bye from my then husband's family, another reason for me to feel guilty for uprooting my family but I had held my nerves together. My mantra was to keep picturing a happy life and it will materialize. I do not have any friends. Never was good at keeping in touch with people for very long. Not by way of giving any excuses, but on a purely self analytical front, this personality trait of mine probably comes from having moved every six months from one geographical location to another. I said farewell to the two ladies who have bestowed me with respect that I feel I do not deserve. My children had not been to school in a little over a month and I was frantic to start my life and give them back the better conditions I had promised them. It was not to be, this time.
I wore ash grey trousers, a black dress shirt, the pearl earrings, my only buddy had given me as a parting gift and a hopeful grin as I entered my new place of work. I was introduced to the tiny lives I would be entrusted with and my plush office, as the forerunner in maintaining quality education at the early years section of an international school. I felt some of the weight on my heart lift off. My children and husband, the three individuals who had led me on this adventure sat patiently in the front office. When my children had been settled with their entrance test papers in another room, we were handed a fee challan. At first I thought I was seeing doubles and almost heard fate let out a snigger it had been holding back for so many days. I asked the secretary if perhaps she had added one too many zeros.
"No this is the fee all school teachers have to pay, it has been reduced 70 percent for employees."
Typical human reaction in the face of shocking news, denial. I proved to be quite typical that day. And so there were usual volleying of negotiations from administration to us. At one point I gave up and bought the children's books and took them with me to school, with the tiny hope that the negotiations will sway in my favor. After all this was what I had worked tirelessly for, for the past two years.
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