It was September 2014 when I reached the most important decision in my professional life. This thought had been ticking away in my mind waiting for my attention until finally it exploded with the strength of a thousand floodlights. I wanted to quit my regular job, that of managing human resources and take up writing as a full time career.

Was I scared? You bet. Was I uncertain? Without a doubt.

Once the announcement went out at work emails started flying in congratulating me for taking this step, some commenting they wished they could do the same. I had folks drop in at my office asking how I had made such a decision. They even planned lengthy trips for me taking me on imaginary trips around the world.

Would I sleep in everyday? This last was the most oft repeated comment.

The more I heard from people the deeper my understanding of peoples’ reaction to my decision to quit my job – it was being viewed as a means to freedom from the daily grind. And writing? Well, that was just a hobby, wasn’t it? I could now dabble in something I liked.

No, I said, writing is not a hobby for me.  I was emphatic stressing on the real motive for making this choice when everything was going so well. Why should I do this to myself, take on an unknown quantity not even sure if I would succeed venturing out of my comfort zone?

My ambition to succeed as a professional writer had forced me to look inwards searching for the real reason and I realized, not without surprise, that it was not all about me. I wanted to be able to inspire people to go after their dream for a dream can become reality if one is willing to work hard to achieve it. Furthermore, if my writing brings a measure of comfort and joy to even one individual I will know I have succeeded. The thought of being a published author one day with a voice to write about subjects dear to me makes me incredibly excited.

At work the day arrived when I was presented with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, my boss spoke at length of my contribution to the organization and I was invited to say a few words. I just choked up for I wasn’t expecting anything like this at all. So I smiled and apologized for not making a speech.

On the way home I relived that moment when I had stood beside my boss while he spoke and everyone listened. I hadn’t been able to speak although my heart was full and there was so much I could or should have said. Now seated on the train I started to write, the words pouring out as though a dam had broken letting the charging waters have their way. I composed a poem. This poem sums up my feelings for the organization I loved to be a part of, a place where I found immense satisfaction by serving people, a place that allowed me to grow within.

Next day there was a lunch in my honour. Speechless with wonder I walked in to a banquet! People were seated around individually decorated round tables. My goodness, this was so overwhelming, especially for a person who tries to stay out of the limelight. Then my boss stood up to announce I had written a poem (he knew because I had mentioned it to him that morning) the previous day which reflects those feelings I couldn’t articulate at the meeting. And, wonder of wonders I did not feel shy to read this poem to an audience.

Legacy

The Autumn wind picks up bringing with it a promise of change, once more.

Garbed in gold and vermillion, touselled hair blowing around her face

At times playful, then serious; ever changing.  This third season of the year,

It is the harbinger of snow, from yonder north.

 

Days rush by, years continue and I keep busy afraid to stop to think. And yet,

In the quiet of an evening I find myself waiting, once more, for what I cannot tell.

Busy from dawn to dusk keeping order I do not have time to ponder, and yet,

In a quiet moment I ask myself, “What legacy do I leave when I’m gone?”

It is a small word ‘though full of meaning that eludes me.

A voice whispers, your presence is a gift from Him. In my ignorance I pay no heed.

The snow has arrived, soft and clinging to the Evergreen in the front yard.

I look out, waiting, yearning for the command.

My hearth is swept, table set, room is warmed by a glowing fire.

A knock resounds through the house and I fling open the door.

There stand a group of men, women and children, shivering on the front porch.

I welcome each person and seat them at my kitchen table,

Then holding hands we sing His praise.  Bowls of hot food pass around, stories are told.

Ah, such happiness emanate from these good souls.

Much later, the men, women and children leave, bidding me farewell.  I shut the door, but remain standing lost in thought.  What was it I had heard before? Peace descends upon me as I hear the same whisper once again.  Now I understand.This then, is my legacy, to care and cherish all who come to me, and to seek out more.

 

Purabi Das is an emerging writer and poet living in Pickering who finds inspiration for her stories and poems from life in general. To find out more visit Purabi on www.facebook.com/purabisinhadas

 

Keep Well…..Keep Smiling

Purabi Das