You gave me the courage to quit my first real job.
Yes, it was a temporary job anyway, but I learnt an important lesson from that one experience – that money can simply not be an incentive for me to put up with a horrible work environment. The place was isolated and filled with people whose primary occupation was talking about each other behind each other’s backs. Granted, I made a couple (only a couple!) of good acquaintances but it was hell and I am glad that I got out when I could.
You gave me my second job.
Seven months in heaven. The change was so drastic, it hit me like warm sunshine after a frigid night out in the street. Everyone was friendly and I felt right at home. I met some great doctors who taught me quite a lot, and my confidence received a major boost in the process. It also gave me the financial support that I direly needed. I am so happy it happened and thankful for everyone I came across there. Tiruvalla shall always remain a fond memory.
You taught me some hard truths about love.
You showed me fairy tales exist, and that they don’t necessarily end in a happily ever after. That everything you’ve ever wanted may not be what you truly needed. That being ready to fight for something does not mean that the battle gets any easier. That sometimes letting go is the best thing you can do for someone you care about, even if they don’t know it just yet.
You let me get back on track.
I had not been the best student at college. In school I was known to be studious, the nerd invisible but for her grades, and in college I was anything but that. I flourished under new found attention and was perpetually involved in a myriad of activities – dances, sports, the works. Time flew and I earned some cheap trophies and poor grades along the way. This year I finally redeemed myself. Although the results are not yet out, I can proudly say I did my best.
You created Ilakkiyaa, the writer.
At the end of high school, everyone passes around little books for friends to fill in. Nickname, Birthday, Favorite things, What do you want to be… That last question always had me stumped. I had never been ambitious and no profession ever beckoned to me so to speak. Everyone always assumed I’d turn into a doctor due to my grades, but it never was my passion. I remember filling in the words in a friend’s slam book with a trembling heart, unsure about whether it would come true or whether it was something I was capable of or even allowed to dream of; I want to be a writer..
That girl grew up and forgot all about her dreams as the real world caught up. She wrote notes and assignments and drew anatomy figures. She danced and sang and made merry. The pages of her diary were forsaken, and her slender fingers stopped penning poetry. But you brought her back, drove her to wield her quill again with a flourish. I am no author yet, but you made me write again, and to write is to be myself, to be alive. Thank you for making me remember, for helping me breathe again.
I’ll miss you.