Things change. They do. And the damned things keep changing all the time. Just when you think you’re getting the hang of things, there they go changing all over again!! A damn nuisance, I tell ya. I understand there are lots of people who actually embrace change. I’m not one to talk with prejudice. Just because they think different from me doesn’t mean they deserve any less respect. Just to clarify things, though, I am not one of those lunatic crackheaded change-junkies.
Oh no. I have an aversion to change. An acute intolerance towards evolving surroundings. And wouldn’t you know it… that turns out to be the ONE thing in this world that remains constant. What do I keep telling ya? A damned conspiracy…
I don’t like to see anything change. Back in school, I couldn’t stand it whenever my folks wanted to redecorate… or recolor… or just move my bed a bit so that I don’t keep falling on my head the first thing in the morning. Every time something like this was proposed, I’d jump up and take arms against the two-crew tag-team, Mom’nDad Inc, like a white-khadi politician hearing about foreign investments proposed in his area. I get nice and cosy within my comfort zone in record time, you see.
When fate decided to kick my butt over to Bangalore some four… five(?)… four and a half years ago, I held on to my dear land, Cochin, with my claws held tight even as my folks dragged me by the feet. But why?? I don’t really know. It wasn’t like Cochin is the ultimate vacation spot for the Gods or something. On the contrary, we have roads that wash away at the mere forecast of a drizzle, traffic that gives ‘bottlenecks‘ a whole new meaning, politicians that make Nixon look like Mahatma Gandhi, and mosquitoes large enough to scare the neighborhood cats.
But after four and a half… five(?)… four and a half years in the IT hub of India, I am deeply entrenched within a self-developed comfort zone here. So once again, I started building my fortress of stability, flinging flaming arrows at changemongers, metaphorically speaking.
That worked for a while, but you can only fight for so long before you realize your fortress has developed a stagnant pool full of dirty dishes and reeks of beer… still speaking metaphorically. The rest of the world has moved on. To make progress, you have to realize your comfort zone, make a conscious effort to break apart, and stop putting things off by sitting on your ass eating popcorn and watching reruns of ‘Friends’.
Right now, my comfort zone is under attack, once again, on the metaphorical level (what can I say… I love metaphors). And it’s getting blitzkrieged from all sides…
- Mom’nDad Inc. in joint collaboration with its sister concern Aunts’nUncles Ltd. are still hunting high and low for a clear and fatal shot at my very endangered bachelor status;
- Office dynamics have changed so much that it’s like I am meeting entirely new people as colleagues, although this could be because of the fact that we DO have some new recruits lurking around;
- My prodigious cousin, Roshan, bagged my prolific friend, Ashy; bound her in an iron-clad legal contract, labeled her his wife, and snuck away in the middle of the night to the United Kingdom. Both Roshan AND Ashika were part of my elaborate comfort couches in Bangalore. With one wide sweep, they’re off!!
- My long-suffering college-senior turned roomie turned guitar-tutor turned booze-partner turned hopeless-romantic turned permanent wife-hugging-mush-machine, Nash, has turned in his paper on my desk, and is serving his two-three months notice period. He has agreed to carry on serving in the ‘friend’ capacity, but has declined to continue living in the same time-zone that I infest. His company is taking his job to the US, and like a dedicated employee, he plans to jump aboard a plane with his wife logged in as the carry on luggage and yelling at the pilot – “Captain – follow that job!”.
- Another one of the really good friends I have left in Bangalore, the incredible singing Soopzie, is also bailing ship along with her daughter and hubby, following his new superfantastical job abroad. And she’s working on a VERY short time-frame. She’s already packing clothes, visa, and her six-octave opera voice. Her compass is set for New Zealand, where she will relax for an undisclosed amount of time. She has also agreed to keep in touch. Unlike Nash, I have a WRITTEN agreement from her, though. With her sporadic online presence and limited chat appearances, I couldn’t afford to take chances.
Items 4 and 5 kinda hit me harder than I could have justified. Granted, Nash and Soopzie are close friends, and once upon a time, we had even formed a band that was slated to mercilessly unleash some of my songs to the public. Unfortunately, we got the instructions all mixed up from ‘Build Your Own Band In 10 Easy Steps’ and the very first thing we did; before getting songs, approaching record labels or studios, or even practicing… was to try to get T-Shirts made. Not kidding. The very first step. Anyway, by the end of it all, nothing came out of it (not even the T-shirts)
So, like I was saying… granted, Nash and Soopzie are close friends, but it wasn’t like we met up for cocktail and dinner every other Sunday. I used to meet Nash on those rare occasions when earthquakes, cyclones, or nuclear attacks temporarily displaces the bear hug he keeps on his wife. And I ued to meet Soopzie even less frequently. So the way items 4 and 5 hit me was surprising. They’re moving abroad, but we’d still keep in touch. The internet has that advantage.
So maybe… maybe what really bugged me was that I began to realize the depth of my comfort zone. Perhaps it’s an instinctive reaction telling me that maybe it’s time for me to follow suit; pack up and jump across the ocean to a new land for a while. Maybe I should tell my comfort zone to bugger off. Maybe I should bid adieu to Bangalore.
Funny. I suddenly feel like… like just sitting on my ass eating popcorn watching old reruns of ‘Friends’
Kidding. Me like this post!”
