How did I decide to become a CA

For the uninitiated, CA here refers to Chartered Accountant and I am on my way to become one. If you don’t know what a Chartered Accountant is, do not worry; you are not in minority here, even I did not know what a CA does when I made the fateful decision to become one. I must have been very brave back then to have chosen this career without any background research. Because as of now, I don’t even step in for coffee without looking at the ratings of a place now and at 17 I turned the wheels of my life into a completely unknown direction.

16 is the age where most Indian students make a decision as to what stream do they want to study for the last two years of school and possibly beyond school. Fun fact, I am 24 and I still don’t know what I want to do. I really don’t see how could have I known ‘the subject/stream/career’ eight years ago. The only thing I knew back then was that I do not want to be an engineer. I don’t know why and I don’t know how but I was absolutely certain that I am not going to be an engineer. If given a choice, most Indian parents want to see their children becoming Engineers or Doctors and never anything else. The other career options are residuary in nature- that is, first a child is expected to try their hands at science and then switch to another subject only if they foresee no possibility of success at science (read failure to obtain a college seat or failure to obtain a well paying job after college). And if the child has a good academic record, it becomes almost impossible to imagine them not taking up science.

I had a solid academic record. Of all the things, that I could have been born with, God decided to give me a good brain. I say that sadly because in India a good brain limits your choices and mine got limited too. Since engineering was ruled out, my parents automatically assumed that I would be a doctor. I don’t blame them. I delayed my decision till the time it was absolutely necessary to make a choice and I wasn’t very open to them about my discomfort with Physics or complete disinterest in Biology or my aversion to hospitals. If your child averages a score of 96 in every subject that he/she has studied, even you might be tempted to believe that they are going to sail off well in all of them, so why not science. Also, being one of the products of the Indian education system even I fell prey to the same reasoning that Science maybe my golden ticket to success in life.

It took me two weeks in the science class to realize that this may not be the correct choice. It took me arguments and deliberations with my parents to make them see how uncomfortable I am with the idea of permanently being in the vicinity of hospitals, sickness and blood. It took days of coming back from school with displeasure on my face. It took that Physics teacher in school to not even take the initiative of explaining a topic before asking us to solve questions because he assumed that everyone had already learned the topic at a coaching class. Finally, it took the coaching teacher to draw an itemized cost sheet of how much this half-hearted attempt at science would cost me for the first two years. And then, I switched to Commerce.

Since I was a child, I had been good with money and I had been good with numbers. I felt that I could do better at Commerce than I could at Science. Almost everyone who knew me was disappointed or surprised with my decision. My parents didn’t seem thrilled with the idea. Every time they tried accepting my decision, a neighbor, a relative, a friend or an acquaintance would express their dismay over my choice. The general consensus was that if I were truly bright, I would have opted for Science. My parents would probe me about my future after school plans. But I had no concrete answers to give because like I earlier pointed out I was quite undecided on my career.

I used to tell them that in the two years at school, I am going to weigh in on my career options; but mostly I want to become a journalist or write for television. My prime career choices somehow dismayed them a little further. Their grounds were that if I wanted to take a career in an unrelated stream, then I should have simply stuck to science in school and then switched streams later on. Secondly, my career choices seemed easy to them; they were non serious choices unfit for a person with some serious potential. Somewhere around the same time, a distant cousin in the family who had taken commerce had completed her graduation from one of the top colleges at Delhi University and simultaneously completed Chartered Accountancy. Her education trajectory came to be branded as the ‘it’ thing to do if you are doing Commerce. It sounded like a serious choice. And then it automatically came to be seen as an obvious choice for me.

I was 17 and on days I felt guilty of hurting my parents by not taking science. Or maybe I was too tired to validate my choices to my parents, teachers and a lot of other people who were finding faults with it. Or maybe I was accustomed to pleasing my parents. Or maybe I loved them as much to consider giving their choice a chance. I don’t know what exactly it was, but somehow I decided to sideline my journalism/screenwriting plans to make way for Chartered Accountancy in my life. I thought that I would first become a CA, earn some money and then make time for pursuing a career that could make use of my writing skills and my imagination. That was the plan. I did not even know what a CA did, I did not know what auditing meant. But I made that plan, based purely on some cousin’s success and an accounting teacher’s romanticized notions about Chartered Accountancy who incessantly preached that CAs people of great dignity and integrity. I am 24 today and I am still trying to stick to that plan.

I have tried to quit a couple of times, not as much vocally as much mentally. I went to the second best college in the country for my undergraduate studies. And in the final year, there was a good opportunity for me to quit. But my parents did not agree. They thought that I was scared of the effort that CA demanded so they coaxed me to continue and I continued. In the first six months that followed my graduation, I should have definitely quit. But I started feeling incapable, undeserving and most importantly ‘stupid’ to be able to find a way out of this and so I continued.

In the three years of my training mandatory to appear for the final exam, I have never enjoyed working with a CA or have come to respect them barring one person who I worked with in the last year. Earlier this year, my second principal (read boss) insulted me for 3 hours straight and made me feel so small because I asked for a favor from him and in those 3 hours of belittlement all I thought was how long can I allow an irrational decision in the name of career choice to agonize me. I should have quit right there but it was too late till then. I can’t even count how many nights have I cried myself to sleep over not having the liberty to simply switch. There are days when I just feel depressed and anxious. I have little to no confidence left in myself. I second judge all of my decisions. I can’t even foresee myself doing something related to writing because somehow my standard approach to a lot of things in life now is ‘what is the point of this?’.

I have had five years of bottling this agony inside me and now that it is slowly starting to spill in front of my parents, it surprises them, it looks like a phase to them and it even seems unreasonable to them. I think it’s only fair that they think so because after all it was my decision to become a CA; I made the plan based on a flawed hypothesis. It was my drive to make everyone happy that has costed me my own happiness. I made a stupid decision and if you’ve read this far here are a few pointers for you with respect to decision making process:

  • You do not owe your career decision to anybody, not even your parents because the onus of making a life out of that career rests entirely on you.
  • Once you start investing time in a career choice and you can see that it is not working out for you, quit. Do not continue because you believe that all the time and energy invested will come to a waste. Do not continue because you think it’s late because if the feeling resurfaces subsequently it will be even later.
  • Never take a decision to avoid a confrontation because sooner or later, the confrontation does happen and if it happens after you have prioritized someone’s choice over yours, the hurt is phenomenal.
  • Do not take a decision without listing out the pros and cons, thinking that you will make it work for you because there’s a possibility that what the decision demands out of us is much greater than what it is going to yield for us in the future.

This was my story of how a single decision turned around my perspective and approach to life. What about you? Can you think of one such decision?


  • pepper2017

 

 

 

 

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Bangalore: Trail and Beyond

I have wanted to write about Bangalore for a long time now. But the handful of people who read my posts, know how little I write; often once a month and twice in a few lucky months. Once every two months, my best friend complains how spaced out are the chapters in the story I started writing in April 2016– which I was meant to complete in that month but still remains incomplete. I am not going make any excuses here, I am lazy, undisciplined and I allow life and people to affect me. That’s how, the post that I wanted to write on the Christmas weekend is being written right now.

Bangalore happened in my life at a time when things were not only not looking up lately but in fact were looking grimmer and grimmer by the day. My mother often remarks that I complain a lot. Partly, I agree; I had seen better days at a time when I barely valued them. But this time in early 2016, when I decided that I had to move, move anywhere on the map, I had a solid ground and more solid sense of desperation. In 2015, I worked on an assignment that required me to move in and out of the many plants of a pharmaceutical manufacturing unit in 45 degree Celsius when the person I was reporting to constantly reminded me that somehow my gender makes me unfit for the assignment. I ended up having a knee injury, a doctor ringing a threat of an approaching arthritis and branded inefficient for denying doing something that did not fall within the purview of the engagement. I walked with a swollen knee for 6 months and resentment that I have carried far beyond those 6 months.

For the latter part of 2015, I worked on a lot of things that required me to manipulate, the kind of manipulation that challenged the value education lessons I had imbibed deeply. The more I worked, the more I felt that the concept of ‘choice’ is being forfeited from my life. No matter what work was assigned to me, I was expected to do that without any qualms. I was expected to travel 50 kms a day for a month even when I complained of motion sickness, I was expected to work for 11 hours a day for August and September including Sundays for 1500 rupees a month, I was expected to sit through midnight on the last date of every return filing in a year, I was expected to put up that farce of sitting in office for 7-8 hours even when there was no work and ultimately I was expected to fold my hands and ‘beg’ for a small termination letter- essential to make the move official- and put up with a couple of malicious remarks. Now you see why I hate my career so much? My work took a lot of my confidence and a lot of my zeal away. In case you are regular a here, you can see why I sing no praises about my choice of career. I was desperate for change. I was desperate to make a move out of that place. So I moved to Bangalore, for professional reasons and in search of ‘mann ki shanti’ (mental peace) that an astrologer once told me I will never find. So I moved to Bangalore violating a strongly held notion that I cannot function anywhere beyond 300 kms from my family. Surprisingly, I did and so here I am putting pen to paper about my little adventure in Bangalore.


Since the story so far have stretched beyond the original estimated number of words, I have split this post into two parts. The second part which I will be posting tomorrow details on my stay in Bangalore.

Definition

I was trying to make it to a thousand. A thousand steps, that is. It was nine in the morning and I was walking outside an accounts class that I attend every morning. I had landed myself in a 10,000 step duel against a friend and being the high headed snob that I am, there was no chance that I lose it. So, while the friend was sleeping and while the teacher was sipping on to tea as the class had broken for a ten minute break, I was pacing in the corridor to make it to a thousand. That is when my path crossed with a guy from my class who – unaware of the target I’d set for myself- initiated a conversation. A conversation that culminated in the inevitable question for any Chartered Accountancy student in this country- ‘When are you due to attempt the final examinations?’

Inside work and outside work, inside class and outside class, while acquainting with new faces or while watching old ones resurface, I am always greeted with questions about the exam, about the classes that I have taken, am taking or will be taking, about the teachers I am taking the classes from and their knowledge market branding. Once we are past the questions, the other half of the conversation is centered on the critique offered on my modus operandi to study and advice that I did not solicit or that is of no relevance to me. This is the conversation that I have to put myself through on a standard day. Without any intention or effort of my own, in the past fifteen months, this conversation has become the nucleus of my existence and an invisible centripetal force keeps on pulling me towards it.

What everyone looks at is the nucleus and what all of them ignore are the many orbs of electrons that complete the atom of my existence. I have an individuality that goes far beyond my education and my career. I am the person who sits down occasionally to spell out her perceptions on paper and manages to do a decent job at it. I am the person who reads to lose hold of reality and emerges with an improved grasp on reality. I am the person who can read people, their words and the aperture between what they vocalize and what they withhold. I am the person who has grown to develop a funny bone or two in her body and the heart to laugh along when a joke is being made on her. I am the person who finds a strange sense of liberation in road trips and in singing every lyric to every song that plays throughout the journey. I am the person who will begin reading an answer on the biggest conspiracies on Quora and ends being so fascinated with the Nayirah testimony that she spends the entire night learning every fact that there is on the Gulf War. I am the person who attaches great value in family and believes the best nights are the ones spent eating and talking and laughing with family. I am the person who will come across an interesting image of mocha muffins on Pinterest and be found trying to reproduce them- on sheer whim because cooking does  not interest her much- in her kitchen the next day. I am the person who diligently solves every question in the class and tries to do it before the allotted time, even though it is 6:30 in the morning, even though she struggled to open her eyes minutes before, even though it is a satellite class and the teacher will never even witness her exultation on having done it correctly. But being this person does not deny me of being the many other persons that are housed within me.

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You may wonder, why am I so bugged with my education beginning to define my life. But this is not about my education rather about one exam, the paparazzi that surrounds it, what people believe that ought to be done to survive it and how I have come to be identified with it. This fellow who does not know me outside the class, who I have never even looked at in class, charted out a timeline for the next two years of my life, told me what according to him I was doing wrong, raised an eye on my relaxed stance on the much dreaded exam and left even without asking my name. I don’t know about anybody else, but I find that rude of him to have completely neglected my identity and to have branded me as another one of the many people in this country who are attempting to become a Chartered Accountant. And what I would not give to simply move past this conversation in a blur where people attempt to shrink my personality into this definition of being a CA Final student.