A window into a life on a sabbatical..

The expected and the unexpected.

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This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, we used the prompt, ‘A Window Into…’.

Image Credits:: Siddarth RG, Siddarth’s Newsletter

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“Not money, lack of structure is my biggest fear with a sabbatical. I can go mad not being occupied in a productive manner” — I heard myself share this expected concern more than once.
A few months ago, before I began my sabbatical, my mind was resisting and overjoyed in equal measure — a change I had wanted for a long time.

Today, I’m here with no concrete plan for the weeks ahead, moving through gym–reading–writing–learning days, and feeling unexpectedly alive in the process.

Every journey has its expected pitstops — phases, milestones, things you plan for. But there are sometimes unaccounted delays, flat tyres, and also the most beautiful sunsets that show up only because you were forced to stop. My journey so far is not a template, but if you’re curious, here’s a peek through my window.

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1. Hey, so what do you do? a.k.a. the identity crisis

   This is the elephant in the room. I’ve never enjoyed introducing myself through a job title or the company I worked for, but I didn’t know a better way. And honestly, it was convenient.
   “Hey, I’m Ritika. I work in consulting.” Full stop.

   In the first few weeks of my sabbatical, my identity clung to that convenience.
   “Hey, I’m Ritika. I work in consulting — BUT I’m currently on a break.”
   The voice was still timid saying the second part out loud.

   When it comes to answering this question for myself, I still don’t have one. What I do have is a strange intersection of too many choices and a deep imposter syndrome. They say, in a world where you can be anything, what would you be? It doesn’t help when you realise that you know so little of anything.

   

   

   

   Worst combination ever..

   In finance, there is a risk called asset–liability mismatch, where short-term commitments are used to fund long-term bets. That’s what identity feels like right now — forcing permanent answers onto temporary days.

   Maybe I’ll find a better answer someday. But for now, unexpectedly, I’ve learned to say this with a little ownership:
   “Hey, I’m Ritika. I’m on a sabbatical.”

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2. But idle mind is devil’s workshop, no?

   Isn’t that obvious? Getting nine or ten hours of your day back is supposed to be destructive. You’re no longer sitting in meetings about setting up other meetings. You don’t know which new AI capability just launched at work. You’re certainly out of the loop on floating gossip.

   And yet, one day you might find yourself visiting your sister, noticing how much she has grown in the three years you’ve lived apart. I mean, how does that help? You travel solo to Barcelona and feel complete awe, but that doesn’t last forever either. You start having conversations with the universe — and that is total nonsense! There are people who support your choices, who even volunteer to be accountability partners. But people can be chameleons, can’t they?

   So you take matters into your own hands. You do what you like. You write. You experiment. And unexpectedly, your days are still as busy engaged.

   

   Julia Child in the movie Julie and Julia

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3. Of course, this was a wrong move

   Why would you knowingly shoot yourself in the foot? But if you do, you prepare. You wear the gear. You take insurance. You plan for the worst-case scenarios and the less severe ones too. You save money. You make checklists. You draft elaborate sabbatical plans. You gather enough justification so that if this ever gets declared a mistake, you can explain yourself. Or quietly decide who gets blamed (husband in my case).

   Over time, I’ve found myself believing that very little is strictly right or wrong. Most of what we do is simply a reaction to our situations. Unexpectedly, my anxiety has reduced over time and some days I am just watching my own story from a distance.

I’m still in the game, with no clarity on the outcome—success or failure. But if it feels exciting, and if that excitement is fleeting, maybe the only thing to do is to feel it while it lasts?

Inspired by true events of having a KitKat while writing this..

I am exactly where I am supposed to be, doing what I am supposed to do. It’s a very… calming feeling. Things are never perfect, but when big, big pieces of your life settle into place, you suddenly notice that tension you never noticed before. Not because it’s there, but because it is not. I recommend that feeling. I recommend chasing it.

-Hemant Mohapatra, in a slightly different context

Sabbatical carousel collage

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Please read submissions from other collaborators:

• The window that looks back, by Vaibhav Gupta, Thorough and Unkempt

• A window into the vegetable market by Rakhi Kurup , Rakhi’s Substack

• A window into permission for freedom: The FIRE Number by Shruti Soumya, Same Here

• A window into the fixity and flux by Amit Charles, AC Notes

• A window into a person who shivers on stage by Mihir Chate, Mihir’s Substack

• A window into bendy morals by Amit Kumar, EarlyNotes

• A window into Kalimpong by Karthik Ballu, Reading This World by Karthik

• A window into what makes a great Quiz Question by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I floundered

• Still Looking By Spandana, Spandana’s Substack

• Three Windows in a Week By Nidhi, General In Her Labyrinth

• A window into a screen-less day by Saniya Zehra Saniya’s Substack