Reflecting back on those days, was I really fearless to leave a job like that? Walking away and taking my dignity with me to store it somewhere safe?
There was some fearlessness factor in it, no doubt. No one could dismiss my story as a mere act of show off or even connect it with female affliction of exaggeration of reality to disproportionate sizes of magnitude. Even in a land where people  find bragging acceptable, this could not easily fall into the category of brag. I had some risks associated with my decision.
But what risk? At that time, my biggest risk was sacrificing a pay check. A good, fat one and a job that provided me with a driver and free, great meals. May be my mom would hate me for saying this but they had a cook in that factory that cooked meals to the order of  twisted man in charge every day. I am not sure how that would work but one thing that I was sure of was that this man loved eating. His big belly was sure a sign but the belly was not big enough to be a definite sign. The real sign was observing the way he ate his lunch.
My mouth is watery just by the mere thought of those foods. The colorful zaffaron filled polo and the well marinated chicken kebobs, the stews, and the smell and smoke of Kebab Koobideh.
Yes, I am still talking about work and I am talking about a manufacturing facility. A facility with workers that some barely earned enough money to provide a meaty dish for their families several times a month.
I am not sure if the bearded man was a man of many virtues but certainly his gastronomic love was one of his best qualities. Having freshly made food was heavenly.  What was not heavenly was being the victim of observing him in action while eating.
It felt like he was consuming his last meal on the planet earth every time he was eating. He was devouring food with every bit and piece of his body, hands and mouth being the main involved parties. Many times, seeing how he was enjoying his food, I wish he would share some of these meals with the workers.
Fridays, when the intoxicating smell of kebob koobideh filled the air, I felt horrible. I knew some of these growling stomachs that have been working so hard all day are probably having some rice and bread for lunch.The thought of the torture this smell was causing these folks made me decide at that time that I will not be at the factory on Fridays. Instead I was going to their headquarters office in Gandhi Avenue. I could still get the awesome lunch and do some analytical work without thinking of all those eyes longing for those yummy kabobs. And if they were not longing for them, I could imagine how they are dreaming of providing such a food for their families, their kids..
I was going to miss the food but not all these moments where I could even feel the workers salivate as the smell of smoke filled the shop floor. And yes, I was going to miss the rewarding experience I had with Sultan Khan and the like. Did I inspire anyone else? I think I had molded that world around me to my liking to some degree, teaching these workers to think analytically and based on numbers about a seemingly unsolvable problem. This could have provoked thoughts in them.. Alas , I never got a chance to know.
Living in my parent’s house, I had shelter, food, clothes and all I needed to live happily and content until I land on another gig. I even did not have to rush myself to find anything else.

My dad asked me to focus on my studies back then.
In that case was I really brave when I walked out of twisted man’s office and never returned? What did I really have to lose?

I am going to sting myself with my own thoughts. May be after all I was not that brave. I had really little at stake to lose at the time. Now, years later I could hear myself heaving impatiently as I was toying with the idea of killing the covered hair super woman I had made back than of myself. An idea that was both exhilarating and to some degree frightening.
I had no idea how precious this all was. This feeling of security, this independence from materialistic world, the fact that I can walk away from a job just like that,  that nothing in my life will not drastically change. That there will be no sad eyes, no regrets, no worries.

The preciousness of  this ability was not proven to me till years later. When I learned about the crippling impact of fear and uncertainty when one loses a job.