Waiting For My Turn

When I was 23 years old, I was at my second job. One day, a colleague mentioned that our company was going to shut down due to long-standing financial losses. Initially, I couldn’t believe it, as everything seemed fine. However, a few days later, one of our staff members was called into the boss’s office. We grew anxious as time passed, and after an hour, he emerged, crying, with his termination letter in hand.

We spent the next two hours consoling him, assuring him that he was skilled and would easily find a new job. He left the office heavy-hearted. Though we felt sad for him, what troubled us more was who would be next. We tried to convince ourselves that we were indispensable to the company and that it wouldn’t happen to us.

Every third day, a meeting was held in the boss’s office, and one of us was called in. It became clear that we would all eventually be let go. The question now was, who would be the last? We pretended to be cool and joked about the situation, but the truth was, each of us was worried and constantly analyzing our position in the office. I participated silently in all the staff meetings. It became a routine: the same tension and anxiety from the beginning of the day, ending with a termination. It was a stressful situation.

Everyone was surprised that I hadn’t been called in by the bosses yet. A month later, only a few of us were left, including me. Initially, it was about my ego, but now I didn’t want to be the very last one. It was a strange play of the mind. The next day, I was called by the boss. I felt relieved as all the tension immediately dropped from my mind, and I relaxed. I happily packed my bag and left.

Many years later, when my grandfather died, the whole family went to Haridwar to cremate his ashes. I remember my grandmother carrying his ashes. A few years later, she died too, and again we went to Haridwar. I vividly remember the whole family sitting in a tempo traveler, and I saw my father gently holding her ashes. It touched me deeply. Two years later, my father also died. It was incredibly painful. Once again, I went to Haridwar with my brother, mother, and youngest cousin. Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation when I saw my loving cousin.

Two years later, that same cousin suddenly died. It is very hard to express how I feel each time. It feels just like how I felt at the office, waiting for my turn.