A retired teacher's compromise with life

 Retirement is a phase of life eagerly looked forward to by some and awfully awaited by some others. Government policies which are changed more frequently than women’s attire frighten those who manage to hang on their precarious service. A casual newspaper report would inadvertently announce that the employees would be deprived of their pension from an ominous date. Some would heave a sigh of relief and congratulate themselves on their sheer luck to have escaped by a day. Others who moan that they are always on the wrong side of life once again would blame their fate. However, the monthly alert from the bank and the balance available send an aura of optimism in me. The other day when I shared this exalted sense of security with my daughter, she reacted quite differently and said that the government was very irrational. Such are the ways of the present corporate diplomacy and the supple young employees. The unfortunate lot is always on the receiving end; they would never question their friendly boss who has the audacity to send them home without even giving them a hint or warning. An organizational protest is never heard of in the private sector and all the grievances of employees are overborne by a casual sanction of a measly paid vacation or restaurant vouchers.  I remember my days in service when the slightest thrust of an unfriendly State policy would trigger a series of protests all over the state and heated talks of leaders would eventually bring in the desired outcome. Well, I am drifting away from my topic. In order to drive away the feeling of not – wanted – anymore, I forcefully engaged myself with teaching jobs through which I managed to earn one third of my pension. When questioned by my well wishers, I boastfully amplified my intention of spending my hours rather than earning my penny. The liberty of working as a part-time employee for a monthly pittance gave me immense opportunities like  a leisurely morning walk, a daily round of morning newspapers, a slow enjoyable breakfast, occasional participation in family functions, an afternoon nap and what not. I could understand the envious look of my young colleagues who toil much more than me and I secretly enjoy their longing gaze as I retreat my steps during the lunch break towards my car. As long as my health permits me to do as I like, I enjoy this phase of life before the last illness and the final exit.