Metaphorical Hostages

 

Back in 2017, I got this book “Hostage at the Table” from IMD Business School, Lausanne with my admission confirmation.  It was my MBA application phase and I was trying out all my next level choices after getting a #rejection from my first choice school: INSEAD.  I was also dealing with major imposter syndrome to think I could really make something out of doing a full-time MBA with six years of law firm experience.  This was reinforced by conversations with recent #lawyer-MBAs or just MBA grads in general involving difficulties finding jobs in the UK during Brexit, procuring a visa in Europe for a Non-European, dealing with student debt and the prospect of having to start another career path at a junior position along with various personal considerations.  Looking back, I don’t think all of these were really valid objections in themselves as I can certainly refute each of them now with very carefully crafted arguments and examples learnt with the wisdom of age (and #Linkedinstalking) but sometimes gut instinct excels in creating so-called logical arguments. 

I digress. Going back to George Kohlrieser’s Hostage at the Table, invites from some top-notch business schools in UK and Europe and my head trapped in a “hostage situation” as per the classic explanation from the author: “any time you feel entrapped, powerless and helpless, you are, in fact a hostage”.  This #metaphorical hostage situation was only broken by applying and getting accepted to be a part-time MBA student at NUS Business School while continuing to work full-time.  I loved living in Singapore.  I was (and am) bullish on Asia.  On the other hand, it was nothing like I had ever imagined my MBA journey to be.  That is both a positive and a negative statement just as the best oxymorons tend to be. 

I completed in April 2020 and so much has happened since.  Not even counting the Covid Blip.  I am still working primarily as a lawyer so many people ask me what I “gained” out of the MBA? I always flip it back to say – what does anyone gain out of most things in life?  Just experiences, memories and certain unmeasurable intangible benefits.  I hate justifying life choices and I will not pretend that I have not questioned and examined myself tediously on the same question.  Do I regret declining IMD and the others who had graciously offered me a spot and a chance at a different life? Maybe.  But as I completed reading Kolhrieser’s (incidentally a professor at IMD I missed learning directly from) master-piece, one quote jumped out at me and still does: “you have the right to choose to do whatever you want”.  So simple yet so powerful.  And today as Singapore celebrates its 57^th Birthday, I celebrate my first as a permanent resident here.  Knowing that any other choice would have led me away from this exact moment which is perfect in its completeness and its incompleteness. Majulah Singapura.          

Mum, Uninterrupted.

 

Today I met a Perfect Mum.  Everything she does revolves around her children.  She is selflessly giving, she cooks perfectly nutritious meals for them, puts her rest and hobbies and friends aside to care for them and play with them.  She is genuinely happy when they are happy and sad when they are sad.  But somewhere inside she is silently screaming.  Where is the joie de vivre promised from motherhood, she asks?

 

I am not the right person to answer, I tell her.  I am an Imperfect Mum.  I question the long work hours spent away from my child but I know I do it because I value any skills I can bring to better this world and make a living at the same time. I do date nights and vacations with the man I love, even more so because he fathered my child and is my equal partner in bringing him up.  I meet new friends and chase old friends I still care about even though they sometimes seem too lost to remember me.  I go for massages when I am tired and aching from my workouts on a weekend which I should spend completely with my child.  I feel happy and guilty that we can afford good help but jealous of her that she spends more time with my child than me.  I compartmentalize the time I spend with my child everyday even (gasp!) scheduling it into my calendar. But when we are together, nothing else matters.  Time stops in his eyes and his smile and oh, how we dance, how we giggle.     

 

I never believed I could be a mum as the only mum I knew was a Perfect Mum, my own mum.  Just like you.  But as I grew up and reflected on some snippets of my childhood, I realized she wasn’t as Perfect.  In the constraints of her own middle class Indian life, she found time to learn and sell hand-made clothes, learn and take pottery classes and has slowly evolved to be a loved social and community leader.  She confessed she was jealous of my grandmother spending more time with me while she toiled away in the kitchen preparing meals for us or taking care of the home.  She longed to go out for movies with my father and when I was older, she did and they took vacations away from me too, just the two of them.   

 

She taught me to embrace being an Imperfect Mum and that is the only way I know to break free and enjoy Motherhood, not suffering alone but enjoying as part of a team.   I know many Imperfect Mums and this Mother’s Day I want to tell them how perfect they are, just as they are.  Let’s accept the guilt and look at finding our Joie de Vivre in the everyday.   

Frame of Mind

                                                                     

                                                                       Frame of Mind

                                I sit here, pearls of luxury dripping like tears of misery,

                                        She sits by a life-worn single bed, with her heart's delight;

                                I am all practicality, boring and poised,    

                                        She is all flimsy, silliness undestroyed;

                                My solace is my screen, pretending I am important,

                                        Alone but never lonely , giggles and snuggles;

                                 Money-making, me:    

                                           Everyone bows to me,

                                  Merry-making, her:

                                            Life bows to her.