At last shrugged

They say he is larger than life.

Well, I'm not a fan so I dunno about that. But he surely is heavier than life.

Yesterday I lugged Amitabh Bachchan across the country. Back and forth.

My dissertation supervisor had lent me this book on Bollywood superstar Amitabh Bachchan titled 'To be or not to be', so I could check if I could use anything from it in my dissertation. The book, compiled by legendary film critic Khalid Mohamed, was written as a gift from Jaya Bachchan to Amitabh Bachchan for his 60th birthday.

Needless to say, Khalid Mohamed received ample help from the entire Bachchan clan in terms of photos and anecdotes from the ye olde days. A little too much help I think. The 424-page book measures 11 x 14 inches, and weighs more than 3 kgs!

So when my supervisor told me on Tuesday that he wanted it back (along with other books he'd lent me) on Wednesday, I had no choice but to carry the load from my house in Clementi through 15 train stations to my office in Paya Lebar and then from Paya Lebar through 19 train stations all the way to NTU in the evening!

SHEESH!

I could barely feel my arms when I finally put the bag of books down on the floor outside his office. And then I saw the shocking sight in front of me. The lights in his room were off -- he was not in. Usually the professors leave around 5:30 to 6 pm, and the general office also closes around that time. He'd told me he'd be in to take the books back from me. But he wasn't.

As Amitabh Bachchan gave me a sarcastic smile from the book cover, I wanted to collapse on the floor screaming "Nahinnnnn yeh nahinnnn ho saktaaaaa!" The mere thought of having to lug it back to Clementi and then to Paya Lebar the next day and then to NTU again was making me go weak in the knees.

I had a class in 15 minutes. I had to get rid of it then itself. Somehow. But how??? I looked around wildly and noticed that one of the rooms in the corridor had lights on. I read the name on the door and it was a professor I did not know. Yet, I gathered courage and knocked. As soon as the owner of that room had opened the door, the words just came tumbling out of my mouth. "Dr Foo, could I please ask you for a favour? My supervisor lent me this book and I was supposed to return it to him today and I think he's forgotten about the meeting and I can't get through to him and I have to go for a class now and the book is really heavy and I can't carry it back and take it to work tomorrow and bring it to NTU again and..." I was breathless.

I think the sheer number of 'ands' in my sentence combined with my pitiable face moved him to the core. He smiled, as all angels do before they grant you your wish and said the words that were honey to my ears, "Sure, you can leave the book here. Just let him know that I have it."

PHEW! PHEW! PHEW!

I felt like a murderer who had just managed to discreetly dispose off the dead body. Laash ko thikaane laga diya muahaha! :D

After thanking him profusely, I scurried off for my class, with only one thought in mind.

Khalid Mohamed, I don't like you. :|

Good job!

My work life and study life has been bordering on stressful in the last few days. Usually stress doesn't get to me, so if I'm feeling this way, I guess I am really stressed. The new responsibilities at work, my term papers and presentations at university, plus my dissertation (which my supervisor remarked was written in too 'interesting' a style to be an academic paper, so I am now actually working on making it 'less interesting'), my exams which are a few weeks away, are really bogging me down.

Last week, I had a term paper meeting after class. The class ended at 9:30 pm. The meeting ended at 10:30 pm. By the time I got from NTU to Paya Lebar station from where I was to take a bus home, it was almost midnight. The realisation that it was almost the next day, and that I was closer to work than to my home, almost made me cry. I felt like I'd have crashed at the train station if I had a sleeping bag or a tent with me.

As I waited for the bus that would take me home, I felt really miserable.

Bus stop. Misery.

Suddenly, I had a feeling of deja vu.

And I thought to myself - what am I complaining about? This was any day better than that.

So what was that? That was the last time I'd been so miserable.

I had quit my first crappy job and was on a job-hunt that seemed endless and futile. When I'd got the first job, I'd been so proud - I was one of the first people in my batch to bag a job. I was gonna graduate in July, and I already had a job in April. A high paying one at that. I patted myself on my back.

But then, the things we celebrate the most come back and head-butt us. So did this job. (You can read details here if you want). So I quit. Because self-respect certainly seemed bigger than income to me.

After applying for various kinds of jobs, I started to get really frustrated. I was down to 100 bucks. It was the first time I felt so jealous of Singaporeans. If I'd been in India, I could have just chilled at home for a while without any worries about rent and bills. My ego wouldn't let me borrow from Dad so I did not tell him about my situation. I don't think people who congratulated my Dad with a "Arre wah your daughter lives in Singapore!" had any idea of the irony in their statement.

To make ends meet, I decided to waitress at Pizza Hut while my job hunt was on. After getting kicked out of Pizza Hut for being over-qualified (the guy who interviewed me kept laughing while he was looking at my resume), I realised I really was in the lowest of the low.

And then that happened.

I was on my way back from an interview with an insurance company. They had offered me a job on condition that I study for an exam, pay a few hundred bucks for it, and if I flunked it, they would retract their job offer. As I walked out, I asked myself what the hell I was doing applying to an insurance company? I did not even want to be an insurance agent anyway!

As I crossed the road, I thought to myself - either I could take up this offer and study like mad and bag a job I did not really care about, or I could turn them down and continue the futile job hunt. I did not know which was worse.

And then suddenly out of nowhere, it started raining like crazy. It was a long crossing and I had forgotten my umbrella. I tried to run, but my high heels slowed me down. I found a bus shelter and dashed for it. I was soaking wet. It was raining really heavily by then, and I decided to wait at the bus stop. That stop did not have buses that would take me home, so I had no choice but to stay and wait there. I was too broke to take a cab. After a while, I got really hungry. I dug into my bag and found a little packet of bite-sized choc chip cookies. So I sat at the bus stop - a hungry unemployed 'foreign talent' in a country of no family, few friends and many strangers, drenched to the bones, nibbling at the cookies and wondering where the rent money for the next month was gonna come from.

I don't think I'd ever felt more miserable in my life. Ever. I wanted to get out there in the rain and cry till my tears became one with the rain. And I will always always remember myself sitting at that bus shelter and the way the rain and the situation seemed to be draining the life out of my body and mind.

I sat there thinking - this can't get worse.

(The next day, I was to be involved in a kitchen explosion that would peel half the skin off my face, making me unpresentable for at least three job interviews I got calls for. But let's not get into any more details, lest I faint of 'traumatising-memoritis'.)

And then a few weeks later, things started looking up. After much reluctance, a publisher decided to 'give me a chance to prove myself' with a two-week contract and a salary of $60 a day (yes, that actually was my salary!) way less than half of what I was getting at my first job.

Today, I'm good. I have a job I'm in love with, a decent salary, a decent (albeit rented) home, a couple of credit cards, money to spend on clothes and shoes, and fewer things to worry about.

And that night, standing there at Paya Lebar station close to midnight, alone and hungry and miserable, I realised something. That our jobs mean more to us than we think they do. If our jobs could talk, they would give us a piece of their minds. They would remind us that they do not ask for a lifelong commitment from us, and yet they bring us a sense of achievement and challenge. All they ask of us is sincerity at whatever we do.

And of course, they pay the rent.

And perhaps at times, we forget to give them the respect they deserve.

We don't take them up when we should.

We don't quit them when we should.

So today's special at the bar is a toast to jobs everywhere. To jobs of every kind. To jobs that mean so much to us.

To jobs that make us who we are.

*clink*

A fiery field trip

Xena had missed a school trip to the fire station because she was in the hospital. I'd promised her that we'd take her after she recovered. So I furiously googled on what I needed to do and which permits were needed and what was the fee to take a tour of a fire station.

I was in for a pleasant surprise. Apparently, several fire stations in Singapore open their doors to the public on Saturday mornings and all you need to do it to turn up. No permits, no fees, no restrictions. The firemen show you around and even give you demonstrations of the fire-fighting equipment. At the end of the trip, all kids get a complimentary firefighter's uniform and a hat. Her teachers had been nice enough to get her a hat during the trip that she missed, but we were all set to see what a real fire station was all about.

This is an old photo of her in her homemade firefighter uniform for her school project. 

Her school had visited the Paya Lebar fire station; I picked Changi fire station because it was easier to get to by bus. We planned the trip with with another family -- their little girl used to be in Xena's class before she moved to another preschool.

Xena is thrilled to be reunited with her old classmate (cropped out of the picture). Remember the good old days when we held hands with our best friends?

A few other families too were there too. We were greeted by very friendly fireman who'd just finished a drill. They showed us the huge fire trucks and patiently answered all of Viv's geeky questions, while Xena and I explored around.

Xena 'driving' a real fire truck!

Xena operates the fire-fighting hose. The friendly fireman taught her how to control the force and volume of the water jet. 

The firemen slide down the pole.

Xena trying to copy 'fireman uncle'

Try #1

Try #2

Try #3

She's finally done and hops off.

The firemen then invited us to take a tour aboard a firefighting truck -- in the part that actually goes up 10 storeys to douse the fire! Viv, with his vertigo, promptly declined so I turned to plead with Xena. She took one look at how high the thing went and promptly sided with her father. Sheesh. I didn't want to be the only one going up so I declined it too. 

The other family went up without hesitation, and even took their 1-year-old along!

Xena saw her friend travel up and down and seemed a little excited. One of the firemen saw her face and asked her if she wanted to go. She shook her head. He then said, "What if we don't go too high? Would you want to go then?" She said yes. I was thrilled! Viv said he'd stay and take pictures of us from below. 

The fireman strapping the safety harness on Xena and me

Up, up and away we go! I loved it, and so did Xena. 

Overall, it was a great family outing. It was more fun than educational, in fact. Viv was perhaps the only one who came back a little more educated about the fire station, the firemen and the fire-fighting equipment. We will definitely be going back in a few months' time, and I'm sure Xena will understand a bit more of the goings-on then. 

Dwellers of Singapore, if you're interested to go, here is the link to the SCDF website, listing the fire stations that offer this.