The sun was high and it was
pleasant and cool inside the room. I was in a new high ranked job position and
my employers and colleagues looked just happy on my joining. It seemed all
liked me. I also received a handsome grant amount for research I wanted to
pursue; as promised. I had finally joined a democratic institution in my own
culture. Nobody was happier than me.
As the job progressed, the outside sun was as bright as always. I wore blue kurta to work and seldom a few times western clothes. But I started having differences with my colleagues. Probably, because of my working style which they said is slightly different. But I was also reassured that there was nothing wrong with it. "There's nothing wrong with it you know. But just then what do we need to spend so much of energy for? But anyways, do what you like", my new and close aides would say.
Months passed by and the sun outside reduced its intensity. But is never lost its glare, so most events would happen inside. This time it was a ceremony where all including the trustees would be present. They called all seniors, including me, to the stage and receive honorary certificates of contributions. On my turn I took the three steps that lead to the stage and received my commendation. It was a weird ceremony because in the end there was a strange unknown God to be prayed to.
All on the stage except the seated trustees folded their hands and joined their palms against their chests for a typical namaskaar. I folded my hands too, but did not feel like taking my hands up to my chests like everyone, and out of respect locked my hands in front of my crotch and bowed my head out of respect. I knew I was being noticed but not expected the trustee to sternly warn me that this is not the way. I must do namaste like everyone else.
The sun was up. It did not matter.
As the job progressed, the outside sun was as bright as always. I wore blue kurta to work and seldom a few times western clothes. But I started having differences with my colleagues. Probably, because of my working style which they said is slightly different. But I was also reassured that there was nothing wrong with it. "There's nothing wrong with it you know. But just then what do we need to spend so much of energy for? But anyways, do what you like", my new and close aides would say.
Months passed by and the sun outside reduced its intensity. But is never lost its glare, so most events would happen inside. This time it was a ceremony where all including the trustees would be present. They called all seniors, including me, to the stage and receive honorary certificates of contributions. On my turn I took the three steps that lead to the stage and received my commendation. It was a weird ceremony because in the end there was a strange unknown God to be prayed to.
All on the stage except the seated trustees folded their hands and joined their palms against their chests for a typical namaskaar. I folded my hands too, but did not feel like taking my hands up to my chests like everyone, and out of respect locked my hands in front of my crotch and bowed my head out of respect. I knew I was being noticed but not expected the trustee to sternly warn me that this is not the way. I must do namaste like everyone else.
The sun was up. It did not matter.
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