19th of May

I looked forward to the end of my Bachelor’s degree with both apprehension and excitement. Apprehension because of finally leaving the safe net of the academic world. Excitement because of entering the world of employment, pay cheques and being able to finally fulfill responsibilities  - the world of a grown up.

I was beginning to doubt all those promises of increased employment opportunities after graduation though. I was creating portfolios in just about every career website available, applying to any suitable vacancy, unwillingly talking to uncles and aunties who promise my dad to “do something” and “help out”. 2010 – it was during the recession. They would be lucky if they got to keep their jobs themselves. Either they really had good intentions to help, or they were just being typical and trying to show off. Whichever it was, they could not really “do something” about my unemployed status.

It gets rather annoying and depressing to receive rejection emails or just no response at all. I met the requirements listed in the advert – why did I not get a call back? I had convinced myself that the whole world was against me. Being my dramatic self, I saw my future fade away into this imaginary black hole. I was destined to be the young graduate who just gets married and becomes a housewife. I would stay at home, have children and make sure they got a good education. I would know how to make round coconut rotis to go with a side of fish curry. I will then grow old completely dependent on my husband and then just die one day.

Now, there is nothing wrong with being a housewife. It’s just not the future I had imagined for myself. If any woman is up for that challenge, that’s an amazing thing in itself. Now I’m not talking about those housewives who compete with each other about who can make the spongiest yet chocolatiest cake (I actually know ladies who do this. They complete the act by fake complementing each other too) while gossiping about how it has been 6 weeks since someone got married and she’s still not pregnant (goodness! How dare she want to settle into her new life and get to know her husband and new family and all other new-ness happening around her before creating a new life and bringing up a responsible citizen?! She must be nuts. Or infertile. Maybe she is just infertile. Or maybe HE’s infertile! Oh wow!  - If you are one of these people (the shoving your nose into other people’s business kind; not the infertile or fertile kind: then shame on you!!)). I’m talking about those women who work without payrolls, days in lieu or annual leave. They are up before the family, go to bed after them and constantly looking to improve the family’s way of life while having to put up with the common misconception that they just stay home and watch soap operas all day.

What made me even more upset about imaginary dark future was that I did not even know how to cook, or the first thing about maintaining a house or bringing up children. I did not meet the requirements to become a housewife either! No job. No married life. Nothing. I was just going to live with my parents until they are alive and after their eyes I’ll have to live with my brothers and their cruel wives (I’m sure they’ll be wonderful women. It’s just that this was a negative time I was going through so everything had to match the sorrowful setting and depressing violins playing in the background) and they would treat me like a maid, which bought me back to one of my original dilemma’ s- I couldn't cook.

It was just – sad.

I made it sad.

When I think about it now, I should have enjoyed that time more than just be a drama queen. I graduated in May 2010. Then there was the summer. By September I landed two internships in different cities and I managed to keep both at the same time, which kept me crazy busy and I was loving it! I wasn’t making much money though and my internships finished in March. I should have taken that time off to relax. What did I do instead? I walked straight into panic zone.

By May 2011 I landed my first full time paid job after graduating. It took me a year, but it was worth the wait. The organization was well known and I got a job in the HR department, which is what I was aiming for (although honestly I reached a point where I would have probably settled for anything). I won’t forget that day easily: 19^th of May 2011.

2 years later, I am still with the company. I can’t believe it has been two years already. In these two years I went through 3 contracts, 3 different roles (all within HR though), and different payscales with benefits. I saw people being hired and people being fired. Life took people away from me, and bought new people to me. I started studying again. I could afford to maintain and keep my dad’s car. I can spoil my brothers with whatever they want.

I could do groceries, pay the bills, and complain about doing all of this just for the fun of it (I need therapy. I know).

Two years. A lot has happened.

I have grown from being a fresh graduate looking for a job to a grown up with 2 years’ experience behind me. Life forced me to grow. My job allowed me to decide how I want to grow.

Two years. It goes by a lot faster than we think. A lot has happened. Too much to happen within just two years. But it did. It all did. Some good; some not so good.

But I’m still here, at my desk, at my job, with my name plate on the front. It makes me glad and grateful. I am happy. I feel empowered and I thank God for that; I thank Him for it all.

I might just end up staying at home, having children and make sure they got a good education. I would know how to make round coconut rotis to go with a side of fish curry (I would be so proud of myself if I could!). I will then definitely grow old, perhaps completely dependent on my husband, and then definitely just die one day. But my life wouldn’t disappear into an imaginary black hole. It would be a life I chose for myself. Because I would no longer be that young graduate who got married just because she couldn’t find a job, even when she was not ready for that new chapter in life.

Here’s to walking around with a slight skip to celebrate my two years here and hopefully for a wonderful and blessed career ahead!

Happy Birthday, Kareema!

Have you ever had one of those friends who just….gets you? Well, I’m sure most of your friends do, which is why they are your friends (ahh…the post lunch philosopher in me just ... kills me!).

I’m talking about a level above the best friend level.  A friend who completes your sentences and who understands you – even when you don’t use words.

Okay, now it sounds like I’m talking about my spouse. But that’s the thing…I’m not married to her (yes, it’s a girl!) nor do I share any sort of a romantic relationship with her. In fact, she isn’t even one of my oldest friends. But it is like, she’s me in the form of a different person. No, she’s not a fragment of my imagination. I have pondered on that thought for a while, but no – she’s a real person with a real family, real life, real passport – real all. Plus, other people can see and speak to her too so if I did actually imagine her, I’m pretty awesome and powerful to have been able to put in her in the minds of others too! (oooh…must write that down…cool ‘inception’ typish movie idea!)

As similar as she is to me, she is just as much different as well.

I remember the very first moment I saw Kareema* (I swear, there is no romantic relationshipness going on). It was our fresher’s orientation day at university. I stood in this long line at the end of which it would be determined whether my conditional acceptance will be made, err…, unconditional or not. I was the only almost student in line with my mom. She was terribly out of her place, but she stood there anyway. For her, she was living the moment – backing her daughter to have the level of education she never had. She was glowing with inhibited pride (I know that’s difficult to picture but mama is the kind of person who will never come outright and tell you she loves you or is proud of you. Instead, she’ll express it in the other little things she does for you – like being the only mother standing in a line full of young applicants). For me, I wanted to be independent like the other girls, standing there with their made up faces, clicking away on their non-nokia N70 phones (I am yet to move on to any post N70 generation phone, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything :D), chewing gum and holding on to their oversized and doubtfully original handbags. Okay, in reality I didn’t want to be like them. At the time I felt so out of place that I just wanted to blend in. I was like…a bowl of wattalapan on a table full of tiramisus, cheesecakes, soufflés and a variety of delicate French pastries.

Standing in front of me were two girls who appeared...well…normal! They both were makeup less, with normal clothes, holding onto normal bags, wearing genuine smiles as they chatted to each other. They were clearly friends. Perhaps from the same school? Both of them would end up being the people I was closest to throughout university, and after. One of them was Kareema.

I remember whispering to my mother about how much this girl resembles this other classmate of mine from high school. Months later I was to find out that Kareema did actually know this other classmate of mine. It was one of the most amazing yet freaky revelations of that semester. We met again by chance and I don’t remember us ever not being together after that. We were in similar programs: my major was psychology and minor was HRM; her major was HRM and minor was psychology, so most of our classes were the same. She is one of the best team mates and study partners ever! Kareema is one of those people who make every idea that your brain manages to squeeze out appear to be the most life changing, earth revolving, stars brightening ideas ever! She has a way of making you feel on top of the world. Like a genius of some sort. All this while subtly adding her own geniusness to your thoughts making the whole thought a beyond superb systematic cloud of awesomeness.

That is not the only reason why I love her though.

Kareema shares my appreciation for a nice filling meal at the best rates possible. We are hungry and economical at the same time. Not just that. We are also very emotional and take in every moment of the process: deciding where to eat, deciding what to eat, deciding what else to eat, choosing where to sit and eat, and finally – actually eating. We have occasion moments of secretly holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes and sighing. All this while being non-romantic. I cannot stress on this point enough. Please…potential marriage suitors – do not be shooed off. I’m not being desperate for your attention though. I’m just stating the facts. I’m not going to talk about this anymore because it’s going way off track…

That is not the only reason why I love her though.

Although we are from completely different cultural backgrounds, it is almost as if our families met before our birth and agreed on the terms and conditions regarding our upbringing. That is how similar our values and understanding of certain traditions are. I never have to justify our odd Sri Lankan attitudes or beliefs to her. She just understands the madness of it all!

That is not the only reason why I love her though.

I see myself in Kareema. Only she is a more advanced, kinder, more loving and nurturing version of me. I never have to think twice about what I say or how she will perceive things. I have never doubted her either. She makes everyone and everything around her better. And she does it all so effortlessly. She will never accept the fact that she is graceful and looks like a floating angel (in the correct lighting), but that is the truth. Kareema radiates niceness.

She is a friend. A true friend. She is everything those cheesy friendship quotes talk about.

She is not the MD sauce to me being the fish cutlet. Instead, she is yet another fish cutlet in the huge plate of fish cutlets - only she is the perfectly rounded one with the exact amount of tuna, potatoes and onions, coated evenly with a layer of breadcrumbs and fried to perfection to have a beautiful shade of brown on all sides.

Just for the record, I do not imagine rolling my friends into fish cutlets and frying them. It’s just how I express my love. Think not with your heart, but with your tummy. I shall stop now.

I don’t consider birthdays to be very special. It used to be the biggest thing ever when I was a kid, but I grew out of it over the years. Having said that though, I see birthdays and other commercially created ‘days’ as an excuse. An excuse for the ‘main person’ to ask to be spoiled, and for everyone around them to do the spoiling. An excuse for people to make time – an act that would otherwise be seen as impossible – out of their busy schedules and routines to enjoy with the main person. If not anything else, it is an excuse to outwardly express love and appreciation and not just hold those feelings inside. It is very challenging for people like my chubby mommy, but very much appreciated by attention and love hungry individuals like myself.

Today is the day Kareema was born. She turns 23.

She’s exactly 5 days younger than me. This is not relevant to anything, but I just find it awesome that even our dates of birth are as close as we are!

In the short time that I have known her (not exactly short. It’s been almost 6 years), she has gone from being the girl in the line waiting to uncondition her conditional letter of acceptance, to an acquaintance, to the girl whose name I cannot pronounce or remember for some reason, to a friend, to a best friend, to someone I cannot imagine getting by a day in uni without, to a sister I was not born with.

I do not consider birthdays to be very special, but I am so grateful that 23 years ago Kareema was born and that destiny was written for her to be a part of my life.

Happy Birthday, Kareema. I hope you have a fantastic day. May God continue to bless and guide you.

I cannot summarize or list the various reasons why I love you. But I just do love you. And that requires no reasoning.

Thank you for being you.

xoxo

*Name changed for no reason whatsoever.