Work and more work

When an adult does not have meaningful work, a purpose, she slowly withers away. The work has to be meaningful not by any one else's definition, but satisfy her own soul. For years now, though I was busy, taking care of my home, my child, earning a living in the best way I could, I felt myself shrivelling day by day, wasted. Because I was not making a film, because I was not getting funds for my ideas. I did make a documentary on DV with my own hard-earned savings, but that did not feel quite right. It felt somehow, as if I had cheated, as if I had found a short-cut in the race.

Today, when I have been commissioned by the Children's Film Society to make a film on a miniscule budget, I find myself back in action. I feel as if I have a place in this world, as if I have a voice again.

Work does lend one an inner confidence, which even money cannot. Or love. Atleast for me, work has always been an important factor of my life. Though in the way of most foolish females, I have often let relationships surmount me.