The Dreaded Word

Nah, I’m not talking about f***. Nor am I talking about any genital organ or anything else grotesque or crass.

I’m talking about the Spartan term CONGRATULATIONS... Or simply congrats, if you may.

I was having lunch when I received a call, saying that I had been short-listed for the job I’m most passionate about. Not just was I happy at an opportunity to get back to my fav profile, but also coz the offer came from a renowned institute in Pune, the expected compensation is respectable if not handsome, and everything else seems promising and do-able!

I’m an extremely extraverted person (if you haven’t concluded that yourself until now).

(No, extraverted isn’t a typo; both extrAverted and extrOverted are correct).

So, being an extrovert, anything that I encounter has to first pass from my lips to the ears of the ones that are close to me, and then we celebrate the emotion. (Celebrate coz only my joys need telling; my troubles and sorrows are effectively felt and sorted out by me.)

So, my first reaction obviously was to call my closest pal and relay the entire telecon. After I had delivered a monologue for around 90 seconds without even a “hmm” or “ok” or grunt or murmur from the other end, I decided to check if the "pal" was really present physically AND mentally. Apparently I made a mistake. And got hung up upon. Strike One.

(At a time when I should have been screaming my ecstasy, I was crying a river coz someone I consider my soulmate banged the phone on me rather than sharing my delight. Lost my appetite and my elation. Whoever said life is fair??!!!)

“There are others who deserve to hear the news”, I said to myself, “others who care...” And I drafted an sms to my Uncle (Abba) and another friend. I felt a surge of thankfulness when Abba promptly replied saying “Congratulations!” even as the friend responded “Yes, I remember you told me about it. We need to discuss this.” Strike Two.

(Thanks for your concern and dedication, buddy, but wouldn’t a simple congrats have sufficed for the moment? Details can wait, can’t they?)

Refusing to be trounced by disappointment, I decided to call my mum despite it being the time for her siesta. Repeating the tale for the second time, I expected a laugh and a compliment, but it was a day of surprises. She gravely warned me that I would have no time for myself, that I would become a money-making machine and repent it later, and I should not take the offer unless I modified my current schedule.

Strike Three.

Sometimes, care and sensibility can wait. Sometimes, the best course of action is the most apparent one, the easiest one in the given circumstances. But we choose to ignore it, and opt instead for more complicated and remote deliberations. Wouldn’t life be much more pleasant, if just like anger, happiness and excitement were also displayed without delay, honestly and expressively?

It happened to me. So, now I know. Hopefully, the next time someone comes to me wanting to share any sentiment, I’ll be more sensitive and empathetic.

I’ll certainly try. Even if I’m busy with something or experiencing another emotion altogether.

Just so that I don’t wound someone as terribly as I was this particular day, and on so many other occasions.
Feelings and emotions better left up on the shelf - Wise lines by Savage Garden in the Animal Song. Hoping to live these lines soon. Or get so wounded that it ceases to hurt anymore...

TC...
Lonely Princess