Its spoken about in length and breadth by those who have
maids for their chores and chauffeurs for their cars. Those who can effort it attempt
to place themselves in an envious spot before the world. Yet the bourgeois
cannot escape this fastidious virtue but live with honest denial. I speak of that
dandy called work-life balance!
At every talk or workshop I attend on work-life balance, I
am outfoxed by the bookish examples of an coveted ‘perfectly balanced life’.
This follows wise words of advice and health warnings. Unfortunately, the labyrinth
presents itself on a Monday evening when the balancing act has just called it
quits.
In my profession as a journalist, work-life balance ceased
to exist until that normal day when I met a senior reporter. From his stretched-out
life, he pulled one sad leaf narrating his yearning to see his little
children. Living under the same roof, he would not be able to see them for weeks together. “When I return from my shift the kids are in bed and when my
working day begins they would be in school,” his tone dropped a few decibels. The line that followed knocked me off. He said “I
am that unfortunate father who chose career over the joy of seeing my child
grow.”
Many months of pondering followed my formal exit from the
media world. If you think that's a happy ending to the story, let me telling you
its 12.45 midnight and this editor in an IT company has a customer-facing
newsletter awaiting his proof reading eyes!
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