The city is too intense. After living in Delhi for more than 19 years, two years ago I left the city for good. I was completely disillusioned. It takes a certain kind of person to succeed in the city. You have to be insanely competitive in everything — whether it’s your career or your love life — and I realised that I just wasn’t that kind of a person.
I started working when I was only 18. At first, I worked in a freight forwarding company. After a couple of years on the job, in 1999, one fine day I walked into the free progress school Mirambika and decided to work there. In the process, I discovered myself, found a second life, and learnt what it meant to be a learner and facilitator. Those were the best four years of my life.
At the time, a parent of a child at school was starting a company that was going to work with schools across the country and implement teacher training programmes and other qualitative tools so that they could enhance their offerings. He asked me if I would like to work for him, and I said yes.
I must say that I liked the job, but after three years I found myself desperate to get out of that environment. One day, I told the man who offered me the job that I wanted to leave. He asked me if I was complaining about the salary. And really, it wasn’t about that at all. I just felt tired of the insane competition to get nowhere important.
Once I quit the job, I spent the next five years working as a freelance consultant. I wanted to create my own identity without organisational backup. I was doing well professionally. But somehow, I was never happy in the city. I felt that I couldn’t cope with the environment. I just had to get out. The city was sucking the life out of me. I caught myself wondering why people did this, why did they live these insane lives. In some ways, I felt trapped. I come from a family where everyone is ‘successful’. Yet, I felt I wasn’t built like that. Eventually I decided to get out of this situation.
I moved first to Sikkim. I worked with some schools there. Now I am in Meghalaya — in a part of the State still vulnerable to insurgency. There is a big difference in the money I make. But I am lucky, I am single. So no matter how little I make, I can get by. The thing is, the minute I left the city I could feel a huge weight lift off my shoulder. I finally felt free. I could breathe. And smile.
Work wise, people are so much more receptive to what I tell them here. I’ve worked with some of the best schools in various Indian cities. And found them to be quite an ungrateful lot. You’re just another consultant to them. They’re spoilt for choice. Here, in this obscure corner of the country, they value the tools I provide them. I work with the community — with kids, parents and the school. They haven’t had opportunities to learn these skills; they are eager for more. I can also feel the real effects of my work when I see how much more the kids enjoy coming to school because now the teachers are firing up their imaginations, teaching them concepts by demonstrating them and not by mugging up facts.
Yet, it can get lonely here. My friends are in Delhi (although some of them often come up and we go on treks). Also, being a foodie, sometimes I miss that city. The cafes, the microbreweries… I also wonder if exposure is important and, if so, why — taking a leaf out of William Blake’s Songs of Innocence, does it not alienate one from oneself?
I am grateful for the many things I learnt, the wonderful people I met, for all the theatre, music and fun. It is not that people in the city are bad; people are the same everywhere. But overall, I am much happier and content here. I have the time to do the things I really love — I write, I listen to music, I watch movies, I go on long walks. The air is pristine. I am surrounded by lush forests. Everything is beautiful. And I finally feel like I am living. Like, really living.
( As told to Veena Venugopal )