7. THE COCOON STARTS BREAKING (YEAR 1970)

STRESS, SUCCESS AND EVERYTHING IN-BETWEEN
The Highs and Lows of A Woman’s Journey in the Corporate World

CARE: This is Chapter 7 of my book Stress, Success and Everything In-Between. These are individual anecdotes but to understand the professional journey in totality, I would recommend reading the book from Chapter 01 onwards.

Travelling by a UPSRTC bus, I reached Delhi from Dehra Dun on a hot and muggy afternoon to start the next chapter of my work life. My uncle was waiting for me at the Kashmiri Gate Bus Stand to pick me up, as I was new to Delhi. He stood there for hours, waiting patiently for my bus to arrive. By the way, there were no cell phones then, and no information about the arrival time of the bus was available. Looking back, I salute his patience and concern for me. 

In the evening at their RK Puram flat, their first-floor neighbour stuck her neck out from her window and called my aunt loudly, “Aunty, there is a phone call for Ranjana Di.” I ran upstairs to receive the call. Such courtesies for the neighbours were common and taken for granted in those days.  

After checking my safe arrival, my parents wished me well for the second job. However, my father added, “Good achievement! But do remember that teaching cannot be a career. It can only be a jumping board for a challenging profession in future. Apply for the All-India Administrative Service when the advertisement appears in the newspapers. You are only twenty. So, you will be eligible for the examination next year only. You may start preparing for the exams.”

I listened to him attentively but wondered whether I wanted to study further. I looked out of the window and watched a bird soaring freely in the clear blue sky, and an enigmatic smile hugged my lips.

****

The next day, clutching the appointment letter, I reported at Vivekanand Mahila College to join as a lecturer in Political Science. Sitting in front of the Administrative Officer of the college, as I completed the mandatory formalities, I noticed a tall and slim girl walking into the office. Oh yes, she was the same bubbly girl who had declared me successful even before my interview took place the other day.  

Seeing me, she flashed a thousand-watt smile and hurried towards me, “See! Did I not tell you that day that you are through, although I was unsure of myself? Hi! I am Neeta.” 

Introducing herself, she stretched her arms wide to hug me. She and I struck an instant chord and became friends instantly.

I stayed with my uncle and aunt and had no responsibility at home. My aunt loved to cook and prepared my favourite dishes every day. Not having any children of their own, she pampered me in contrast to the strict discipline my parents had imposed on me. In college, I was to take not more than ten lectures of forty minutes each per week, which meant less than even two lectures per day on average. Life had suddenly changed for me: I had never been so relaxed in the first two decades of my life.

Vivekananda College (Delhi University)

The classes in the college commenced at 8.30 am. But those married and saddled with their innumerable domestic responsibilities found it inconvenient to reach college so early. Therefore, the principal thoughtfully assigned them lectures starting later in the day. Neeta and I happily volunteered to take the classes scheduled at 8.30 am. Neither of us had any family responsibilities and had no problem reaching early.

Handling the early morning classes had its advantages. The students were fresh in the morning and listened attentively to the lectures. The parents of the girls did not allow them late nights those days. They also did not allow them to spend endless hours talking to their friends on the phone. There was no internet and no mobile phones. They did not have to stay awake for live chats with friends or update their status on Facebook. The parents usually would not allow them to watch television for long durations. Anyway, most households did not have a television in those days. Even if they had one, the only channel available was the black and white of Door Darshan. It would usually telecast some lacklustre regional dance performance or Krishi Darshan. Naturally, the youngsters slept early, got up early and came to college with a sense of freedom and excitement.

The classes in the college commenced at 8.30 am. But those married and saddled with their innumerable domestic responsibilities found it inconvenient to reach college so early. Therefore, the principal thoughtfully assigned them lectures starting later in the day. Neeta and I happily volunteered to take the classes scheduled at 8.30 am. Neither of us had any family responsibilities and had no problem reaching early.

Handling the early morning classes had its advantages. The students were fresh in the morning and listened attentively to the lectures. The parents of the girls did not allow them late nights those days. They also did not allow them to spend endless hours talking to their friends on the phone. There was no internet and no mobile phones. They did not have to stay awake for live chats with friends or update their status on Facebook. The parents usually would not allow them to watch television for long durations. Anyway, most households did not have a television in those days. Even if they had one, the only channel available was the black and white of Door Darshan. It would usually telecast some lacklustre regional dance performance or Krishi Darshan. Naturally, the youngsters slept early, got up early and came to college with a sense of freedom and excitement.

Life for me had changed dramatically. For the first time in my life, I realised that there existed a life beyond books, a life that was different from what I had experienced until then. I, who had never received even seven Rupees as pocket money, now received more than seven hundred Rupees every month. And the best part was that I could blow it away the way I liked. I could also spend my time as I desired. I could even come home late without explaining to anyone where I had been after my classes were over. The new lifestyle was a total contrast to my earlier life in Lucknow, where my mother would be standing at the gate if I got delayed by ten minutes from my usual time. If a lecturer ever extended the lecture by five minutes, or if I had to wait in the queue in the library to get a book issued, or if I had to get the air pumped in the cycle tyre, I owed an explanation to my mother. In Delhi, for the first time, I started learning the meaning of freedom, and it tasted sweet.

Having moved from the conventional Lucknow, I was quite a plain Jane untouched by the ways of the contemporary girls in the hip and happening Delhi, the capital of India. On the other hand, Neeta, an alumnus of the elite Lady Sri Ram College of Delhi, was highly independent. Well-acquainted with the ways of Delhiites and also full of life, Neeta knew her way around Delhi.

She discussed the latest fashion trends and did not hesitate to make fun of the crumpled saree of Mrs Iyer. She would also smirk at the cracked heels of Mrs Sinha. Analysing the college politics in detail, she would explain to me lucidly the nuances of the flattery skills of Mrs Bedi. When the executive committee members of the college attended the staff meeting, she would nudge me with her elbow to point out how the expression of our principal changed while talking to them. All this was new and exciting for the meek and modest me. I carefully listened to every word of Neeta, like a keen and enthusiastic learner.

"Finish the lectures and go home" was the working principle followed at the college. Neeta and I would leave the college as soon as our classes were over, but never before devouring two hot samosas with a cup of rich ginger-flavoured tea brought by the canteen boy.

The tea and samosa session at the college had to be consciously extended up to 11 am because the markets in Delhi did not open before 11.30 am, the time for both of us to head off for our unplanned exploits of shopping wherever we wanted, in the narrow lanes of Chandni Chowk, in the crowded alleys of Karol Bagh or in the fashionable Connaught Place.

Moving from one shop to another and bargaining for the prices of sarees in Karol Bagh was a pleasure I had never experienced in the twenty years of my highly protected existence. Vigorous haggling in the shops invariably helped us to get the quoted price reduced to almost half, which thrilled both of us no end. After the shopping, we would end up at some eating joint to celebrate our success. With starters of aloo tikki at the Gyanee’s in Chandni Chowk, to lunch of Chhole Bhature in the Kwality’s in Connaught Place, followed by a delectable kulfi at Roshan-di-Hatti in Karol Bagh, there was no limit to our escapades in Delhi.

Watching a movie in Connaught Place was always an option when the weather was hot. Once inside, our expertise in eating aloo parathas with mango pickles from our lunch boxes was at its best. Bringing food in was not allowed in most picture halls. Neeta told me that rules are meant for breaking. She also showed me how to hide the lunch box in the bag and ensure that the mouth stopped moving as soon as the hall attendant came flashing his torch after the strong smell of mango pickle. These practical tutorials were so thrilling that we would giggle for hours talking about them.

Neeta and I had all-route bus passes, and gallivanting across Delhi, the whole day was exhilarating. One day, when we noticed a signboard of the newly started electric crematorium near the river Yamuna, our curiosity was aroused, and we decided to explore how it worked. We walked straight in. But the moment we saw a dead body, we were miserable. We did a right-about turn and quickly retreated to the comfort of the crowded Ring Road.

While on our unplanned exploits, the two of us would frequently land up in some sticky situation. But we invariably managed to ease ourselves out unscathed, all thanks to her ingenuity and quick wit.

Taking head on to the passengers, who were found sitting on the "Ladies Only" seats in the DTU bus and forcing them to vacate it, sent us on a high.

A simple girl from the hinterland of Uttar Pradesh was transforming quickly.

The cocoon had started breaking.

                                                                            (To be continued......)

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