Those Two Minutes

The first time it happened, I was not even 10.

I remember standing in front of the bathroom mirror that morning, practicing, and praying for those two minutes to just not happen, pass, disappear.

My heart was pounding, I kept forgetting what I had to say, and yet, I kept revising it in front of that mirror with the light blue frame that matched the light blue tiles that would have reminded me of ocean, if I had seen one by then.

I wished for a late arrival- the bus could get late- there were a million possibilities- a punctured tyre, a sick driver, a late child, a closed railway gate that we crossed on our way....anything- I prayed, "Let there be anything, but let the bus reach the school just 2 minutes late."

For that morning, I was to speak in front of the whole school, for a whole two minutes. And if we reached two minutes late, it would delay the whole schedule, and that would probably relieve me of this terrifying "opportunity". My first ever speech. The topic was Newspapers. 

No big deal, right? Such an easy topic. But Public Speaking is more about attitude than about Topic. The fact that you are at a place where everyone else can  see you (you can't hide in the sea of faces- and it does look like a sea when you are up on the stage), where the mic is in front of you and every sigh and shudder can be heard across the hall or the playground- that is what gives most people shivers when it comes to Public Speaking, even if no one else has the same courage either! The fear of judgement, of being laughed at, mocked at, made comments about later, and so on and so forth. 

To my luck, the bus didn't get late; we arrived in time, the Assembly happened as usual, and with a pounding heart, and a straight face, I did give that two minute speech that set me up for giving speeches for rest of my school life!

                  

                     Fast forward almost twenty five years later, I got this opportunity to promote my book at a conference. The audience consisted of Insurance professionals, and for them it was an end-of- the-conference event. For the twenty-four hours that I had known about it, I didn't even once consider carrying any memory or flash cards, for pointers about what to speak. I thought, "I know my book inside out. How hard can it be?" No practice, no nothing- I just made sure I got my hair done though!

At the event, I felt a little nervous, mentally revising what I should say about the book, but not nervous enough to back out.The only things that bothered me at the back of my head were, a/ I was wearing heels and the shoe size was a tad small for my feet (they had promised it was pure leather and it will "open up!- it never did!), and b/ my bouts of dizziness that had been troubling me for a few years already.

So there I went up on the stage, and grabbed the podium with both my arms like I was sinking at deep end of the pool! Because believe it or not, just by being up there, knowing my every movement was being watched, knowing if I slipped or had an episode of dizziness (which were both real possibilities), I would make a fool of myself, I needed something to hold on to. As I started speaking, I liked how my voice boomed on the mic. And then I saw my arms, as I waved them to supplement what I was saying-  they were shaking, terribly. In my mind I remember thinking, "If I can see it, they can see it too!"  And I began to falter, and forget. It was then, at that moment, that I made eye contact with one member of the audience. She smiled. And then all the rules started coming back to me- not that I could stop my arms from shaking, or feel less nervous, but just a little less so. I still forgot all the interesting stuff I could have said, and yet, felt much better; only because in that sea of disinterested or too-eager-to-ask-questions faces, there was one face that was smiling, that was actually listening to what I had to say.

So why did I dig this one up to write about today? To acknowledge, share and accept that in spite of our best intentions, we do mess up our opportunities sometimes. And it is not because we are not prepared, but it is because we are afraid. It is the fear that kills, more than anything else.

And two, to remind that a little kindness can make all the difference. In my heart, I thanked that lady whose kind smile made it possible for me to hang in there, collect pieces of my failed performance and still walk out of the hall with my head held high. 

I have to admit, somewhere deep in my heart, I want to test myself again on a stage. How hard can it be? Right? :)

Remembering the good, and only the good...

When I went there after almost two years of leaving the job and met all my ex-colleagues, I saw a man smiling broadly as we were all talking.
"Sorry, I did not recognise you,” I said. 
"...You shared your lunch with me,” he said. 
I still had no memory of that incident. He elaborated "It was my first day here and I hadn’t brought anything for lunch. You gave me an apple from your lunch. You are a very nice person..."

I was dumbstruck; not because I had not remembered it, not because I had only given him an apple, but because he had remembered that small incident and that small impromptu act had made me a nice person in his eyes.

I can assure you, I am not that nice a person. In fact, I can be mean and selfish, just like anyone else. However, this gentleman’s words reminded me how a small act can not only leave a good or a bad memory, but can also make or break relationships.

A few years ago, when my husband was travelling, I fell sick during the night. In the morning, still shivering, I wrapped myself in the quilt. I could not drive in that condition, not across the ocean (then and now) called SZR. The only person who came to my mind was my then colleague and friend AKS. She lived in Golden Sands, while I was near the then Defence Roundabout, and it was a time when Oasis Centre was as far as the people not working in Jebel Ali went on SZR! In less than half an hour she picked me up, took me back to Bur Dubai to our insurance approved doctor, helped me with the medicines, took me to her home, force-fed me the breakfast, and then dropped me back home...I have never forgotten that act of kindness. I could have never done it , especially if I had a baby to take care of. Every time I think about her or see her on my FB, that one incident towers above all to tell me that a friend in need is a friend indeed. I am ashamed to admit, I would have most likely failed her in her such time of need- thanks to my fear of SZR!

Whether it was the boss who took time out from his very busy schedule to answer my non-job related questions on Advertising, or his wife who always met us like she was one of us, the colleague who volunteered to show me how to put baby pics on the office desk without the horrible tape showing, the colleague who made dhansak for all of us, the friends who took care of me when I was sick in college and didn’t even take money for the fruits they had to buy to help me recover, the friend who took it on him to take us all out in those Eid holidays because my husband was travelling, the friend who offered to take care of my baby if I wanted to take up some classes to enrich my life, or the stranger who helped me on that cold Delhi evening when the auto-wallahs went on strike....each one is so different in their acts, and yet have the common thread of having been kind to me.

It is also surprising as I write this, that I only remember the good, happy, kind acts others have done for me. Not a single memory of a routine bad deed comes to my mind; not even if I scratch my brain.  So, I let go of it...I am happy to report that it feels lighter :).

If only I could say a big thank you to all those people whose acts of kindness in my time of need or otherwise helped me keep my faith ...if only I could promise myself that I will always only be kind to others, and create a memory that they will be happy to remember when they see, hear, or think of me...