tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6626778892735201722024-03-13T06:35:51.880-07:00A Brick In The WallSathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-66902195468939614282018-01-07T03:28:00.002-08:002018-01-07T03:28:34.919-08:00Random thoughts<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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We all got through life in a
state of hypnotic trance, a state of suspended animation of the mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our waking life is a mixture of
emotions and conditioned response to those emotions. We might like to believe
that our responses based on our thoughts, but the fact is that our thoughts have
been impacted over the years through carefully regimented inputs of dogma in the
forms of societal conformance. Human beings are not very different from sheep
in this respect. Our herd mentality is evident in everything that we do in a
day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Imagine that we take a group of
new born babies and take them to an isolated island and let them grow on the island
without any external influences. Would the babies display the same social
constructs which govern us now? Would the white baby be considered privileged?
Would the baby who grows up with physical prowess be considered more suitable
mate by the girls? Would our reptilian brains have more influence over our
thoughts in such a situation? What language would they develop? Would those
babies, when they grow up, contemplate their existence and start worshiping
the elements? Would they believe in multiple gods or would they believe in a
single supreme being or would they be atheists? If nothing else, it would be a
very interesting experiment in human psyche.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The more I think of our
existence, the more I am inclined to believe that our whole existence is
predicated on a set of unwritten laws and a sense of morality which are
necessary for smoother propagation of the human race. Greed is bad, why because
ultimately one person hoarding a lot of resources is not conducive to sustain a
large population… so share so that more people can procreate and grow. Polygamy
or polyandry is bad, because more number of dedicated couples is conducive for
progression of society than a few amorous relationships and experimentation
giving rise to lesser number of offspring. Compassion is good… because if we
had believed in a dog eat dog world, we would have far lesser number of people
in the world now. We say being a humane person is very important. But what is
humanity? Is it not hurting other human beings or is it not hurting other animals
or is it something more? <o:p></o:p></div>
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So, we are all like sheep, unquestioningly
believing in things which we have been fed from our births, all the while
adhering to the societal rules… to what end? For the progression of human race?
Why should we propagate our species? While I am writing these in English
language, on a laptop designed by an American company, manufactured by laborers
in China, I wonder what were the purposes of the people who were part of the
process which put this laptop in my hands. Did they even envisage this laptop
being used for writing this drivel? <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have questions, a bit of time
on this Sunday (why is it called Sunday, why not BlaBla day) morning, and no
answers. May be I should go back to sleep. <span style="font-family: "Segoe UI Emoji",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol-ext; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: "Segoe UI Emoji";">😊</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-87799524105180800402012-03-14T10:19:00.002-07:002012-03-14T10:19:34.082-07:00Modern Times<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I sat staring at the plate of fruits laid out before me. Pieces of apples, guava and banana cut hurriedly and in a haphazard manner stared back at me. I looked at my breakfast and a quick image of maggi noodles, masala dosa and vada flashed before my eyes. I cast a forlorn look at the kitchen where my wife was busy stuffing more fruits into my lunch box. I had a sudden urge to stand and announce that I wanted proper Rice and Sambar for my lunch and not fruits. But ten years of marriage teaches one to resist such urges and make peace with the matters beyond one’s control.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I sighed deeply, poked my fork a little too meanly into a piece of banana and was about to devour it, when my eight year old son walked into the dining room. He was still in his pyjamas as his school was closed for summer holidays. He glanced at my full sleeved formal shirt and neck-tie, smiled and yawned mischievously and slumped into a chair and called out, “Ammaaa, breakfast”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">My wife walked out of the kitchen bearing a plate of noodles and a glass of chocolate Horlicks and set it down before our son and said, “Adi, you have to finish the milk, ok? I have added extra Horlicks, just the way you like it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Adi grunted in response and started spinning a string of noodle with his fork lazily. Sensing that my wife was in a good mood, I ventured a suggestion, “How about some noodles for me, darling?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">My wife, Radhika, spun around on her heels and gave me a look that made me sink a little deeper into the chair. She said, “You do remember what the doctor said during the last check up, don’t you? No fried or oily or junk food. See, I have cut up all the fruits in a neat pile for you. Now, don’t make a fuss and eat your fruits.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I quickly put the banana piece, which had been stuck on my fork until now, into my mouth and smiled sheepishly. Adi, the little tyke, laughed at my predicament and started eating his plate full of noodles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Radhika announced that she was going to get some laundry done and left the room. Adi, who until then had been playing the role of a lazy-kid-in-the-morning to perfection, suddenly looked up from his plate and asked, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Appa, how are babies born?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I choked on the piece of banana and had to gulp it down. I took a quick look at Adi and found that he was staring intently at my face. I was reminded of the time when I posed such a question to my father. I had been ten years old, when I had become curious about the circle of births and deaths. My father had told me then that I would learn those things when the time was right. I thought of giving the same answer to Adi, but I knew that Adi would push the issue and would not be satisfied by such a reply.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">So I ransacked my brain for an appropriate reply. <a href="" name="_GoBack"></a>Finally, I said, “Adi, Babies come from God.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“God?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Adi arched his eyebrows and cast a questioning glance at me and I could tell that he was not at all convinced. So I tried to prove my point with a bit of philosophy, “See Adi, all living beings come from God. We are all children of God.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“So if we are all children of God, then I should call God as Appa and you would be my brother right?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Nobody could deny the fact that my son had logic on his side. I was miffed at the thought that my eight year old kid could call my bluff.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Adi was not done by any means, “Appa, really? You think you can blame God for everything? Tell me Appa, how was I born?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I got up quickly from the table, looked at my watch and announced, “Adi, I have an important meeting to attend. So I have to be in office soon. We will talk in the evening.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">With that, I quickly dove out of my home and into my car and sped away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">While in office, I was trying to come up with a plan to counter THE QUESTION. During breakfast, Adi had caught me by surprise. I had to be prepared in future. By evening, I had not come up with a satisfactory strategyand so I decided to make a stop at the local toy store and get a new Batman action figurine.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I reached home and as I had feared, Adi was waiting for me. Sensing an impending doom, I immediately presented him with the new toy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">My carefully thought-out plan worked like a charm. Adi was so engrossed playing with the new toy that any unwanted questions that he might have had in his mind seemed forgotten. I had a rather unpleasant dinner with another plate of fruits but I was in a self-congratulatory mood to care much about dinner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Late at night, Adi fell asleep on the sofa, while still clutching his new Batman figurine. I picked Adi up, took him to his room and set him gently onto his bed. I was pulling the sandals off Adi’s feet when he sat up, wide awake and looked at me. My heart sank. I had hoped of discussing with Radhika on how to answer Adi’s doubts. But there I was, once again caught unprepared.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I braced myself for a repeat of the questions about how babies were born. But Adi did something unexpected. He reached out to the night stand that stood near his bed, opened the top drawer and produced a sheet of paper. I could not make out what was written on it in the dim light thrown by the zero-watt night lamp. So I asked Adi, “What is this? Why are you giving me a piece of paper?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Appa, read it. You might know this already. But still I thought it would be a good idea to inform you, in case you didn’t know. Goodnight, Appa.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Adi lay back in his bed and pulled the covers over him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I mumbled goodnight and quickly got out of the room. I started reading the letter and when I finished, I did not know what to do. I slowly made my way to our bedroom, where Radhika was reading a magazine, and sat on the edge of the bed. Radhika sensed that something was amiss and asked me if anything was wrong. I did not answer her, but extended the piece of paper to her.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">She took it from my hand. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“What is this?” she began, “This is Adi’s handwriting. What has he written? Some school work…Argh.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">There was a sudden gasp from Radhika. I looked at her and she read the whole sheet and looked back at me. I gestured for her to close her mouth, which was wide open. She began, “How? I mean… What? I…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">She continued stammering while I replied, “Adi asked me in the morning about how babies are born. I did not answer him properly. So he thought that I did not know and he has explained the whole process for me in that sheet.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Radhika finally seemed to collect her wits and asked, “Where did he learn all this? Do they have sex education classes in school at this age?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“I really hope so. Otherwise, I don’t want to imagine from where he has learned all this.” I replied.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">We both sat staring at each other for a while and we finally decided that we would talk to Adi the next day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">While I lay down on the bed later, I heard Radhika mutter under her breath, “Times have changed… a lot”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I agreed with her, “Modern times, indeed.”</span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-28195595982105672102012-02-04T11:05:00.000-08:002012-02-04T11:05:04.535-08:00Like and Share<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I let out a low, guttural groan while I stretched my limbs. My steel cot creaked with my movements. ‘Either my cot is old or I have put on weight’ with that thought I looked out of the corner of my eyes. I could see the outline of a prone figure on another steel cot at the other end of the room. The whole body was hidden beneath a bundle of sheets. The stained curtains that hung across the windows did not cover the entire frame of the window and hence did not stop the morning light from seeping into the room, casting an eerie glow, which I found slightly disconcerting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Siva, Siva. Get up dude. Make some tea. It is your turn today”, I shouted while I closed my eyes with a satisfactory grin spreading across my face. It was Saturday, which meant that I did not have to haul myself off the bed and hurry to my job. I heard a grunt from Siva in response and then the sound of shuffling sheets. I tried in vain to recreate the remnants of my dream in my mind. I had seen myself as a knight in shining armor riding a white horse. ‘Such a life would have been seriously cool’ I thought. I heard Siva’s footsteps while he dragged himself to the kitchen area.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">My roommate Siva and I worked for one of the top Information Technology (IT) companies of India. I had met Siva during the initial training that our company provided to the new employees. We were both in the same training batch. When we both were posted in Bangalore after training, we had settled down in a studio apartment which we could afford between us. To an average Indian youth IT jobs held a promise of a higher standard of living and we were living the dream in that single room apartment while we tried to save each and every paisa that we could.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Finally with a suppressed yawn, I sat up in my bed. I sat staring at the ground and remained for a long time with my eyes riveted on a dent in the mosaic on the floor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Do you think we should tell Raghu uncle about the dent?” Siva held two cups of tea and he must have been watching me stare at the dent.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I reached for the tea cup while shaking my head vigorously like a leaf caught in wind “If we tell him we can kiss our security deposit goodbye.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Raghu uncle was our landlord and we had paid five months of our rent as initial deposit amount to him. Siva nodded in agreement and settled down in front of his laptop, which was on the table that stood between our beds, and powered it on. I watched as the monitor came to life and the all too familiar logo of Windows Vista lit up on the screen. I took a sip of the tea and grimaced. “Dude, your tea is crap. What did you put in it…, acid?” I asked aloud while bracing myself for a torrent of invectives to be showered on me by Siva. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Siva never quite got the hang of making tea and this was a ritual that we followed every time he made tea. I would make a comment on his bad tea and he would call me nasty words. So I smiled when Siva hailed me immediately with quite a few choice words that left my eardrum with a stinging sensation even after his tirade ended.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Siva opened his Facebook account still muttering and cursing me for my apparent lack of gratitude for the tea that he prepared for me. I wanted to tell him that if the concoction that he had prepared for me was to be called ‘Tea’, then actual tea would have to be called something different altogether. But I held my tongue because I did not want to rile him up any further and I also wanted to use Siva’s laptop after a while.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">In an attempt to make peace with Siva, I slid to the end of my cot and leaned over nearer to Siva with a smile and remarked, “Dude, you have so many ‘likes’ and ‘comments’ in your Facebook account. That is so cool. I log into my account and I don’t find even a single ‘like’. How do you manage?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Siva’s lips twitched slightly as though he was going to smile but quickly he forced his grumpy look back onto his face. But I could see that he was pleased. “People like me and so they leave ‘likes’ and ‘comments’. And for your information, most of the ‘comments’ and ‘likes’ are from girls” And as though to prove his point, he opened a recent link that he had shared on his ‘wall’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">There was a photo of a very cute little girl in a hospital bed and her head was bandaged, which made her head look disproportionally bigger. To the right side of the photo, it was written: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Please share this photo. For every share, facebook will donate $1 to the operation of this little girl. She has a tumor in head and the cost of the operation to remove it too much for her family to bear. Please help”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Siva had shared the photo and he had 23 ‘likes’ for the photo and 7 ‘comments’ and 5 ‘shares’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I could see that several of the comments were from girls and they appreciated Siva’s philanthropic nature through their comments and some of them had also posted ‘get well soon’ messages for the little girl in the photo.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Before I could ask him whether it was necessary to share such links to get so many ‘likes’, there was a knock on the door of our apartment. I looked at Siva and I looked back at him. “I made tea, so go open the door”, said Siva while jerking his thumb towards the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I let out an audible sigh and got up from the bed. I reached the door and opened it. There was a woman outside our door. She wore a sari which could have been pink in color but through years of use and accumulated dirt the color of the sari was only barely discernable. A rag of cloth hung from her neck and a baby, which seemed to be about 2 or 3 years old, rested against the woman’s waist while supported precariously by the rag of the cloth. The baby did not seem to like my presence at the door and angrily hit the woman on the chest with a folded fist. The woman took the palms of the baby in her coarse hands and opened the tiny clenched fists and held it open before me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">It dawned upon me that the woman was out begging for alms and the baby was her prop for the act. I called out to Siva to join me. Siva came over to the door and immediately he began gesturing the woman to leave by waving his hand frantically. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">The woman was persistent and in spite of our repeated threatening gestures, she kept saying, “Sir, sir, hasivagide… pappa hasivagide…” We could understand from the little Kannada that we knew that she was saying that she was hungry and her baby was hungry. But we pretended not to understand her. She started touching her stomach and then she took the baby out of the rag that held it against her waist, turned the baby towards us and began patting the baby’s stomach with her right hand while she held it aloft with her left hand. The baby, jolted by all the movement, registered its protest at being handled in such a manner by letting out a shrill wail.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I lost my temper at the woman and I brandished my mobile and said, “Police, police” and I acted as though I was punching numbers into my mobile. She stopped her acting and returned the baby to its original position and started walking away. We stood by the door to make sure that she left our floor for good. While the woman was walking away, the baby poked its head out of the rag and turned its head towards us and kept looking at us. When the woman and the baby were out of sight, Siva and I closed our door and returned to the laptop. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Man, these beggars… they are persistent” I remarked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">Siva nodded his head “I am sure she stole that baby from somewhere and is taking it around to feed on the sympathy of people”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Yeah and the smell from her… Yuck, I was thinking of skipping out on my shower today, but now I will have to shower twice” I shuddered at the thought of the dirt that was on the woman’s sari.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Dude, leave all that… Let us talk about something interesting. See the number of ‘likes’ on the photo that I shared has gone up” Siva was pointing at his laptop screen. He was right. The number of ‘likes’ for the photo of the girl with brain tumor, was now 25.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“Siva, I am going for a shower now. When I come back I am also going to share the photo on my ‘wall’. I don’t believe that the girl is going to get $1 if I share. I mean, how can facebook track all the shares? Still if it can help me impress the girls in my friends’ list... What do we lose, huh?” I said while glancing at the photo.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">“You are learning the tricks of the trade, man” Siva said with a low chuckle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-US">I smiled while looking at the little girl with the bandaged head in the photo. For some reason the face of the beggar woman and the baby in her bundle flitted through my mind. My smile faltered, but I immediately got rid of the image with a quick shake of my head while I made my way to the bathroom.</span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
</span><br />
The End</span>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-48215177624725061892012-01-27T04:18:00.000-08:002012-01-27T04:18:15.892-08:00A Story of Hospitality<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop woke up with a start in the morning. He looked around while trying to shake off his disorientation. He reached for his watch which was on the table that stood by the bed. It read 08:30a.m. He cursed under his breath and jumped out of the bed. He was late for work.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop was working in the Hospitality department for a major Information Technology company based out of Bangalore. He had joined the company six months back after completing his Bachelor of Commerce (BCom) degree. The job did not hold much charm to a BCom graduate, but the pay was good and Anoop had made peace with the nature of work. He had found a 1bedroom apartment near the company office and was slowly settling down into his new job and surroundings.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">He brushed and performed his daily ablutions with haste. The day was of huge significance to him. That day was his first appraisal at his job. He did not want to be late. He knew for certain that his manager in the hospitality department, Mr. Rangarajan, would invent reasons to reduce his rating and he didn’t want to give him further fuel by turning up late in the office.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop reached the office by 09:30 am. He ran to his cubicle, sat down and glanced at his manager’s cubicle. Rangarajan was already present at his place intently peering at his monitor. Anoop quickly logged into his computer and opened up a spreadsheet which enlisted all the notable work that he had undertaken during the past 6 months.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The intra-office communicator flashed suddenly. Rangarajan or Ranga, as he was popularly known, was summoning Anoop to his cubicle.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘Showtime’, thought Anoop while he took a deep breath and got up from his seat.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘Good morning, Anoop’, Ranga greeted Anoop with a smile.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘Good morning, Ranga’ Anoop's voice was feeble and tense.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘So how are you today?’ Ranga was delaying the inevitable. Anoop wanted to tell him to cut the crap and get on to business, but one doesn’t say such things to one’s boss. So Anoop replied, ‘I am doing well, Ranga. How are you?’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘Good, good.’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Ranga thought for a while and repeated, ‘Good good’. Anoop knew that that was one too many ‘Good’ to be true.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Ranga finally seemed to find no further reason to delay the discussion any further and so he began, ‘Anoop, you have been a very good performer during the past six months of your tenure here. But at the same time I have not seen many out of the box thinking from you related to the work.’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘Out of the box thinking? In Hospitality Department?’ Anoop wanted to laugh at the reasoning of Ranga but then again one doesn’t do that to one’s boss.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">‘Yes. Out of the box thinking. In the hospitality department, we are concerned with the well-being of all the employees of this company. You have obviously handled the tickets and the other requests fairly well. But what I expect from you is to take up more initiative.’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop was confused. At first, it was out of the box thinking and now it was initiative. He wanted to tell Ranga to make up his mind. But Anoop said, ‘Ranga, I think I understand. Could you please give me an example of the sort of initiatives that I could showcase to improve my performance?’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Ranga was not prepared for such a question. He seemed stumped for a while. But Ranga had not become a manager without facing real time contingencies.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">He said, ‘Look, Anoop, the role of hospitality is to enable the software engineers and the folks in the delivery to perform their work without any hassle. But let me tell you a secret. That is the motto to the outside world. This is business. If the company can get those people to work their asses off without giving them ergonomic chairs and notepads and cups, then the company would be very happy. That is because; the company wants to reduce the overhead costs. And that is where we can show initiative’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop was beginning to get the picture. He nodded his head vigorously to indicate that he was following Ranga’s reasoning.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Ranga was happy with himself and happy that his protégé was picking up the tricks of the trade so quickly. So he felt slightly magnanimous. So he said, ‘Anoop, tell you what, I will give you two days time to come up with some new ideas to reduce the cost to the company and I will consider that also for the appraisal. As of now, your appraisal is ‘Met Expectations’. If you can come up with some good ideas, I will increase it to ‘Exceeds Expectation’. How is that?’<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop couldn’t believe his luck. He was getting a chance to increase his rating and that too from Ranga. ‘Maybe I judged Ranga too quickly’ thought Anoop.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop went back to his cubicle and opened up a new spreadsheet. He titled it, The Avenues of Cost-cutting. He worked on the list throughout the day. He skipped his lunch and he did not leave his desk for snacks. By evening, Anoop composed a mail to Rangarajan and attached his spreadsheet full of suggestions and immediately walked over to Ranga’s cubicle.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop insisted that Ranga go through the list and give his feedback. Ranga was impressed to say the least. Ranga realized that each and every point in the list could prove to be real cost saving options for the company. Without much hesitation, he forwarded the list to the top management.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Ranga and Anoop did not have to wait for more than an hour before the reply to the mail arrived. The top management was ecstatic that such vibrant people with such exceptional ideas were present in the company. The top management also assured that the ideas will be implemented on a company-wide basis. The mail showered praise on Ranga and Anoop and assured that they would both be given ‘Outstanding’ as their appraisal rating.<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The next day, a simple mailer from the Hospitality department went out to all the employees of the company. It read:<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Dear All,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Greetings from the Hospitality Team!!!<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">As a part of reinventing the institution that is our company and ensuring a new paradigm shift in the outlook of the company towards saving energy and natural resources, we are in the process of revamping a few of the policies related to Hospitality and the use of facilities in the office.<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>The toilets shall no longer have toilet papers. If anyone needs a roll of toilet paper a request will have to be raised and it will have to be approved by the manager<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>If an employee raises more than five requests for toilet paper in a week, the sixth time onwards, he/she will be provided sand paper rather than toilet paper<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>Each employee will have to swipe their id cards to get a cup of coffee and if the employee consumes more than one cup a day, detergent powder will be mixed instead of sugar in the subsequent cups and the resulting calamity will not augur well for the employee considering the points 1 & 2 above<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>Water coolers shall function only after swiping the id cards of employees and if the employee consumes more than two cups of water, recycled water shall be provided from the third cup onwards<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>The number of chairs in each four member cubicle will be reduced to three. The chairs shall be available to employees on a first-come-first-serve basis. The employee coming late will have to stand and work for the day or sit on the floor as per his/her preference<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">6.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>The notepads and pens shall no longer be made available unless the employee submits his/her previous notepad and pen to the Hospitality department and proves that the notepad/pen which the employee has taken previously is completely exhausted. (Note that pictures drawn in notepads/scribbling on notepads are not considered ethical and such employees shall no longer receive the stationary item)<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">7.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>Employees are hereby encouraged to buy their own coffee mugs and in case employees need company issued coffee mugs, an approval letter from the manager accompanied by an undertaking from the employee will have to be submitted. In the event of the company issued coffee mug being lost or broken, half of the month’s salary from the concerned employee shall be remitted to the Hospitality department as fine.<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">8.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 7pt; line-height: 10px;"> </span>Air conditioning and fans shall no longer be available to employees. In each floor a designated kiosk will be kept air conditioned and employees can avail that facility for fifteen minutes per day. If an employee exceeds the fifteen minute deadline, employee forfeits his chance of going into the kiosk ever again<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">The change in policies shall underline the commitment that the company has towards conserving energy and we hope that all the employees will cooperate with us.<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">Cordially,<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">The Hospitality Department<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">We are here to serve<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">P.S. Any employee found making fun of/discussing the above policies shall be referred to the HR department for appropriate action<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">THE END<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">Epilogue:<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">The mail created a few ripples throughout the company. But the dissenting voices quickly died down when the Hospitality department showed that they meant business.<u></u><u></u></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 0in;">The land value around the company went up and many private parties set-up restrooms around the company premises within a month. Rumor has it that some of the owners of the restrooms are industrious employees of the company itself<u></u><u></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Anoop and Rangarajan received several awards for their farsighted ideas and their commitment to conserving energy. They received ‘Outstanding’ as their appraisal rating</div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-24626776198132191402011-12-21T06:28:00.000-08:002011-12-21T06:30:10.060-08:00The Software Engineer who sold his Pulsar - Chapter 4<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Santa walked into my cubicle with a grave expression on his face. The clock on my taskbar read 03:26 PM. I was wrapping up my work to make an early exit from the office. But the sight of Santa’s face made my brain work overtime. I played with different kinds of replies to Santa’s question about why I ordered the sea food platter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“I don’t know what you are talking about” or “Oh that was not included in the buffet?!!!” or my personal favorite, “It was Rajat’s idea”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">But Santa walked in and slumped into a chair near me. When I looked at him there was no hint of an accusation but only a wearied expression.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Dude”, he began, “Do you know who ordered the five plates of seafood platter? That was not part of the buffet. I had to pay 2000 rupees extra. The manager at the floating restaurant said that someone from our group specifically asked for it, but he did not remember who it was.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“WHAT? But why are you asking me?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“You are the only vegetarian in the group. So I can be certain that it was not you. If you saw who it was please tell me.” Santa was genuinely angry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">I could not believe my luck. Not only was I not accused but I was getting an opportunity to pin the crime on anybody of my choice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“It was Kunvarjeet”, I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Kunvarjeet was a senior guy in Santa’s team. I did not like the guy much. He used to travel in the same company bus as Rajat and me. Once Rajat had saved me a seat and Kunvarjeet sat despite my handkerchief on the seat. Finally I had to pry the hankie from beneath him and had to stand the rest of the journey. I had not asked him to get up, which I would have done, but for the fact that Kunvarjeet was 6foot 2inches tall and an assiduous body builder. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">So when I saw the opportunity to tarnish his image, I took it. There was also another reason. I was sure that Santa would think twice before picking up a fight with Kunvarjeet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Santa thought for a while and finally said with a false laugh, “Oh it was Kunvarjeet? Yeah, I remember now. I had agreed to buy something special for the group earlier. So maybe he just ordered the seafood platter. It is fine. What is the big deal, right?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">I also smiled and said, “Yeah. What is the big deal? You are going onsite, man. Enjoy that!!!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Oh yeah, I had to ask you something. Now that I am going onsite, I need to get rid of my pulsar bike. It is in pretty good shape. I bought it from my roomie who went onsite last month, so you never know, the bike might be a lucky bike; 53000+kms done till date. I heard that you were looking for a bike. So are you interested?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">I thought about it for a moment. Buying a bike was high on my priority list and I knew for certain that Santa used to take good care of his bike. So it would not be a bad buy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I asked cautiously, “What price do you expect?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Dude, what is the big deal again? You just give me 20k and we will call it a done deal. How is that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Honestly, 20k for the bike was a pretty decent asking price. I had seen the bike and I knew that it was worth the money. But as all Indians, I was never satisfied by the first quoted price. I had to bargain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Santa, the bike has run 54k kms. So how about 18k, huh?” I remembered to stress on 54k kms.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Ok dude. You drive a hard bargain. But I need the money by tomorrow. I will come to your house tomorrow. The bike is still registered in my roomie’s name. So there is no paper work to do. One year insurance is there. So you have basically nothing to do but to take the bike from me. Saturday is a good day for money transactions as well.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Ok”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Santa and I chatted for a little longer and later parted with assurances from both sides about meeting tomorrow and sealing the deal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">The day had brought me a mixture of fortunes. But I was feeling quite happy about buying the bike.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I told Rajat about the deal on our way home and Rajat was also of the opinion that the bike might be a lucky one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">The weekend passed without much incident. Santa had come over to my house and I paid him 18k and became a proud owner of a black pulsar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">So on Monday, Rajat and I went to office on MY Pulsar. As we walked in to our development bay, we saw Santa walking towards us with a wide grin. Sometimes I used to wonder whether he was born with that grin on his face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Hello fellows. Tomorrow I will leave to my home town. I will be back only after a week. Meanwhile I need to talk about the visa and all with Bharath. So today is going to be hectic. On top of it all we have a team meeting at 10.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">It was customary in our team to hold team meetings whenever someone left the team or the company or went onsite. I immediately knew what the meeting was all about and the reason for the grin on Santa’s face. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Everyone would be praising him and he would be the star of the show.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">The week was off to a bad start. But I was not giving into despair yet. Over the weekend I had worked on my ten point plan for improving the TL’s efficiency.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">At 9:50am there was a rush of people to reach the conference room. Our team meeting usually included both the development and support team and consequently the conference room was always crowded. It was a struggle for seats because Bharath loved hearing himself speak and would go on talking for hours and those who arrived late had to remain standing the whole time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">I ran towards the conference room and dove easily under the arms of Kunvarjeet who was heading towards the last available seat and placed myself on the chair and smirked at Kunvarjeet. He glared at me and for a moment I was afraid for my life. But then Santa walked in grinning. All heads turned towards him. All the whispers and talks died down. Santa took in the attention and stood erect by the door with the grin intact. He did not look at anyone, but stared straight ahead and remained so until Bharath walked in.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Bharath walked in pushing a chair for himself and sat down as soon as he came in. I slowly placed the sheet on which I had written my ten point plan in front of me on the desk and waited for Bharath to start the proceedings.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“Friends”, Bharath started speaking in his dreary, monotonous voice, “We all know that one amongst us is going to the client location very soon.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">All heads once again turned towards Santa. He stood as though he was oblivious of all the attention and remained with his eyes fixed on Bharath. There was one improvement though. His grin had made way for a gentle smirk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">“So let us all join in wishing all the very best to Santhanam Balaji while he makes his way to Hyderabad. Santhanam, you are an essential part of our team and we are sad to see you leave. But the separation is only physical. For everyone’s information, Santhanam is going to the new branch that our client has set up in Hyderabad. The branch is a joint venture by our client and another new generation bank. We are lucky to have that project too and I wanted the best person to represent us there. And you all will agree when I say that Santhanam is the best that we have to offer…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Thud!!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Bharath stopped his monologue upon hearing something crashing down. I caught only a glimpse of the figure of Santa prone on the floor before he was carried out of the conference room. I quickly grabbed my ten point plan and tore it up before rushing to Santa’s side. Everyone cornered Bharath asking him why he told Santa about an onsite opportunity when he was actually sending Santa to Hyderabad.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Bharath was all apologetic. He explained that onsite means being at the client’s office and does not essentially mean going abroad. He also said that he was unaware of Santa misunderstanding him and that it was a clear case of communication breakdown. People gave him nasty glares but nobody dared to say anything untoward to Bharath, especially after watching Santa lying unconscious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">After sprinkling water on Santa’s face and roughly shaking him for a while, he finally came around. He sat up, looked at all of us and did not speak anything. Bharath said sorry and explained that there had been a misunderstanding. Santa took it all in and then slowly walked out of the development bay without saying a word.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Epilogue:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Santa did go to Hyderabad and later on to Australia. But I heard that it did not last long because the client-side folks were also annoyed by Santa correcting their grammar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">I used the Pulsar for a long time and other than serving me well, it did not bring me any special luck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Bharath was feared from that day on and even I began to watch my step around him from that day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">But Santa did find a way for revenge and got Bharath in a fix. But more on that at a later date.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">It is me, the model Professional signing off…</span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-26588160201817359782011-12-15T08:36:00.001-08:002011-12-15T08:36:56.086-08:00The Software Engineer who sold his Pulsar - Chapter 3I walked up to Rajat’s cubicle and announced, “I am going to work my way into an onsite opportunity. I have a plan”<br />
<br />
<br />
Rajat gave me an incredulous look and said, “I don’t know why but I always have a bad feeling about your plans.”<br />
<br />
“Rajat, some plans work and some plans don’t. That is the nature of plans”<br />
<br />
“But in your case, none of the plans work and all plans fail”<br />
<br />
“Ok. If you are taking that attitude, I am not telling you my master plan” I was annoyed but had to admit the hard truth in Rajat’s statements.<br />
<br />
“Ok ok. Tell me please” Rajat made a show of regretting his doubt.<br />
<br />
“Ok. We know the reasons why Santa is going onsite. One, he annoyed Bharath. Two, he threatened to bring in changes in the working of the team that would not have been good for Bharath. Am I not right?” I paused to ensure that Rajat was following my train of thought.<br />
<br />
“Yes. Or at least that is what we think.” Rajat was always cautiously pessimistic.<br />
<br />
“Dude, there can be no other reason. There are many more deserving candidates in the development team. But Bharath chose Santa in particular because he posed a serious threat to the serene Saturdays of Bharath.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, Ok, I guess it is so” Rajat seemed to be finally coming around.<br />
<br />
“Ok. So what should I do to go onsite?” I asked.<br />
<br />
“What should you do?” Rajat repeated.<br />
<br />
“I should emulate Santa. I will tread the exact same path of Santa. That will force Bharath to find an onsite opportunity for me as well, pretty soon”<br />
<br />
“I don’t understand.” Rajat seemed thick-headed at times. Rajat was very intelligent in straight forward matters. But he seemed to lack the worldly knowledge and the smartness that I possessed. That was one of the reasons why I had taken Rajat under my wings; to impart my wisdom to him.<br />
<br />
“My dear friend, allow me to break it down for you. The first part is annoying Bharath. I have a head start in that area. Once Santa is gone, I move to the first place in the list of most despicable people for Bharath. The second part is a bit trickier. I have to threaten Bharath’s peaceful existence in the team. So you get my idea? I mix these two catalysts and voila, you will find me on the next flight to Australia”, I was eloquent and for a moment thought that politics would have been a better career choice for me. I needn’t have wasted time in college or even the latter part of schooling could have been skipped.<br />
<br />
Rajat looked at me with wide-eyed disbelief. After a while he seemed to find his bearings and he asked, “How are you going to threaten Bharath’s peace?”<br />
<br />
“Good question. I am going to come up with a ten point plan for increasing the TL’s efficiency in particular. And I am going to suggest the TL working from home even on Sundays. I just have to make Bharath believe that I will present the plans to our PM. Bharath will have me on the next flight” I announced.<br />
<br />
“Seriously? You are going to do that?” <br />
<br />
I could tell from Rajat’s expression that he thought this to be one of the worst ideas he had ever heard. But then, Rajat was a child when it came to making plans and I could not care less for his judgment.<br />
<br />
“Rajat, dude, you just wait and watch. It is going to be legendary.” I said imitating Barney Stinson from the sitcom ‘How I met your Mother’.<br />
<br />
Rajat shook his head and remained silent. I was irritated by the obvious lack of enthusiasm from Rajat and was about to embark upon another speech to convince him when I heard Santa’s voice behind me.<br />
<br />
“Hey guys, I am taking my project mates out on a treat to the floating restaurant. I am going to be awfully busy going forward. So I thought I would give treat today itself. So you people join us now for lunch. Ok?”<br />
<br />
I did not respond. There was an uneasy silence, but Rajat quickly said, “Yes Santa. We will be there.”<br />
<br />
Santa said that he had to invite a few other people for the treat and so he left immediately. After making sure that Santa was out of earshot, I turned to Rajat and asked, “What are you up to? Why are we going for the treat? Don’t you have any self respect?”<br />
<br />
“Dude, the way I see it, Santa is going onsite anyhow. So let us eat… You know… EAT”<br />
<br />
Rajat laid stress on the word eat and immediately I caught the drift. Once in a while Rajat would surprise me with such insightful observations. I felt that there was hope for him yet.<br />
<br />
So we trudged our way to the floating restaurant. The name floating restaurant was a fancy one but contrary to the expectation that the name evoked, the restaurant did not actually float on water. The restaurant had a pool encircling it and it had been a great disappointment for me when I first went there as I had expected so much more judging it by the name. But since then I had come to like that place as it offered palatable food even though at high rates. Good food was hard to come by in our company campus despite many different caterers operating in the food courts. At times the situation was so bad that it felt like the vendors had a competition amongst themselves to find out who could cook the worst food.<br />
<br />
Rajat and I turned towards the path leading to the floating restaurant. The path was closed for cleaning. We saw four people cleaning a square tile from four directions. Sometimes our company overdid themselves when it came to cleanliness and housekeeping. I pointed this out to Rajat while we turned to take a longer route to reach the restaurant. <br />
<br />
I said, “Rajat, see that? Four people cleaning a single tile in the path. Another person wiping individual leaves of the plants on either side. Sometimes I wonder whether all this is necessary”<br />
<br />
“That is what our company is all about. Processes… Using four people ensures superior quality of cleaning. Plants are cleaned and maintained… Happy plants… Happy clients”, said Rajat.<br />
<br />
I looked at Rajat trying to discern whether he was cracking a joke. But there was no hint of humor there. It seemed like he believed what he said. I did not push the matter as we had reached the restaurant by then and was greeted by a grinning Santa.<br />
<br />
“Hey guys, come on in come on in… I am paying for buffet for all of us. So let us all enjoy today.”<br />
<br />
Rajat and I managed to smile and walked in. I walked straight over to the manager at the billing counter and asked, “Is there any dish which is not part of the lunch buffet?”<br />
<br />
“Yes sir. The chef’s special sea food platter is not a part of the buffet. It is made only as a special order.”<br />
<br />
“Great. What is its cost?”<br />
<br />
“Each plate costs Rs.400”<br />
<br />
“Splendid. We are going to need five plates of those for our group. You should ask your chef to start weaving his magic soon.”<br />
<br />
The manager left to instruct his chef.<br />
<br />
Rajat was standing by my side and was confused. He asked, “But you are a vegetarian. And do you think Santa will pay for those?”<br />
<br />
I said with a shrug, “Let the people enjoy today. And by the time the bill comes and Santa figures that the platter is not part of buffet, we will be long gone. I am sure the manager is not going to remember who made the order. Even if he does, I am going to feign ignorance”<br />
<br />
Rajat smiled appreciatively, “Good thinking man”<br />
<br />
The party went on without much event. Santa was at his overbearing best. He told everyone that he would bring back whatever his friends needed from Australia. He cracked a few humorless jokes and the group laughed… the suck ups. <br />
<br />
After the lunch, Rajat and I quickly made our way out of the restaurant and went back to our cubicles.<br />
<br />
We chatted for a while in Rajat’s cubicle and later on I returned to my place and to my pile of tickets. At around four in the afternoon I once again saw Santa’s head hovering in front of my cubicle. He had a serious expression on his face.<br />
<br />
“That manger must be taking some memory enhancing medication. Shit.” I swore under my breath and sat with an innocent expression adorning my face.Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-10314120734004367532011-12-14T09:48:00.000-08:002011-12-14T09:48:45.882-08:00The Software Engineer who sold his Pulsar - Chapter 2<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">We were nearing the end of the year of 2008 and so most of the client-side folks were away on holidays. That ensured a lower than normal number of support tickets for us. But that did not stop Bharath, our TL, from assigning the maximum number of tickets against my name; such was the love and affection that we had for each other. It was no different on that day either.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I started closing the tickets one by one and I was busy writing comments in one of them, when Rajat rushed to my side panting like a dog. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Did you hear? Did you hear?” he gasped for breath and looked like he was about to have a heart attack.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Dude, calm down, whatever the problem is, I am sure we can face it. We are dudes, dude. We eat adversity for breakfast. So quit your panting and tell me what the problem is.” I smiled and felt smug about my pep talk.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat gulped and he was a bit annoyed, “Oh ok. Then eat this… Bharath has offered Santa an immediate onsite assignment”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“WHAT?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat’s words hung in the air. For the next 2 minutes the cubicle was like a cemetery. Nothing moved and the air seemed to have forgotten to flow.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat slumped down into the chair next to me and we remained staring at the tiled floor for a while.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Finally I spoke and my voice had lost all its self-assured confidence, “When did you hear? Who told you? How is this possible? I mean… How? What the …?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“My friend, Sushant, in the development team pinged me with the news. Apparently the assignment is for one year. Even people in the development team cannot believe it” said Rajat.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“How can Bharath do this? I mean… Wait a minute… There can be only one explanation for this. Bharath is trying to send Santa away… He must be absolutely fed up with Santa. Yes… That should be it.” I spoke as though I had made an important discovery.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat said thoughtfully, “Yeah. That could be it. But onsite? Bharath is doing Santa a favor. If he is pissed at Santa, why send him onsite? There are numerous other ways to take it out on Santa.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Dude, Santa is not in support team. So Bharath cannot dump more and more tickets on Santa. Even if Bharath sets strict deadlines, Santa finishes them off. He might be a loudmouth, but Santa is pretty good at his work.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat didn’t look convinced. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So I continued, “And I am certain that if Santa stays here any longer, he will put forward his ten point plan for improving team efficiency to our PM and then the consequences will be terrible.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Hmm. True. Bharath wouldn’t fancy working on Saturdays, I am sure”, said Rajat.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The cubicle again fell silent. Rajat and I remained lost in thoughts for over five minutes when Santa walked into our cubicle.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Guys, I hope you heard the good news.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I gritted my teeth and flashed a smile which did not reach my eyes. If Santa had looked a bit closely, he would have seen murder in my eyes.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yeah, we heard the news Santa. Congrats. So when is it all happening?” Rajat spoke up trying to appear cheerful.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Don’t know guys. Bharath just said that I might have to travel within a month. I don’t know how I am going to get my visa and set everything in order. It is all a bit sudden. But, hey, I am not complaining” Santa let out a high pitched laughter as though he had cracked a joke.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat and I looked at each other and Rajat reluctantly joined the laughter. I did not bother to make an effort.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I am glad to see that all my good work is being rewarded. Recognition has been slow in coming, but I am just thankful that it is finally happening.” Santa seemed pretty happy and content with himself.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He then turned to me and said, “I know that we both joined the project at the same time. Hey, don’t lose hope yet. You will also get onsite opportunities. May be I will put in a good word for you with Bharath and the onsite PM. How is that?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I clenched my fist and would have been happy to see my fist pass through Santa’s stomach and come out the other side.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But not all dreams can be acted upon. So I managed to say, “Thanks man”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“You are welcome buddy.” Saying so, Santa patted my back and turned to leave. I quickly put my finger in my nose and with that hand patted Santa’s back. Rajat who saw it, snickered.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a juvenile thing to do. But I could not help myself.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Santa turned and flashed his big grin at us once more and walked away.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Argh” was all that I could manage once he was gone.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat shook his head with a grave look on his face and walked back to his cubicle.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I once again sat down in front of my computer. A ticket from an employee of our client stared back at me from my monitor. I resisted my urge to write the resolution comment as ‘You are a dumb troll if you cannot find this out yourself’ and set myself with renewed gusto to the tasks at hand. It helped to take my mind off the troubling thoughts about Santa for a while. </span></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span><br />
After about thirty minutes, I got up and walked towards Rajat’s cubicle. I was a man with a plan.</span></span>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-65506299407298251892011-12-14T09:45:00.000-08:002011-12-14T09:45:28.918-08:00The Software Engineer who sold his Pulsar - Chapter 1<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Good morning” A heavy voice said as though the owner of the voice was greeting the whole wide world.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I heard the voice and immediately resisted the temptation to look over my shoulder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I would have recognized the voice even if I heard it amongst a cacophony of other noises. It is funny how people always recognize voices that they try really hard to ignore.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Hey, you busy?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">There was no letting off.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I locked my computer and slowly revolved my chair. My face bore an expression akin to that of a school kid on a Monday morning.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Santhanam Balaji stood there with a wide smile adorning his face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Hello, you are busy? Did you have breakfast? Care to join me?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I had often wondered how he managed to talk while keeping his grin intact. To an uninitiated mind the grin and the innocent face could have been indicative of a very charming and lively face. But from experience, I had come to realize that behind that smile and innocent face, lay a trap.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I am not that hungry now. I will go over sometime later.” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Come on, you shouldn’t miss your breakfast”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I will not miss it. I said I will have it later.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“No no. You come along now. Give me company” Santhanam reached out and yanked me out of my chair. I was no match for Santhanam. I rued my decision to choose dramatics instead of karate in school. Back in school it had seemed like a solid choice because almost all girls used to sign up for dramatics. But now, I really wished I could wriggle my arm out of Santhanam’s grasp and land a blow on his chin accompanied by a guttural ‘yeeehaw’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Santhanam, I am not hungry now. Please let me work” I said unconvincingly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">In fact I was feeling a bit hungry and I was definitely not working. But I did not want to go with Santhanam.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Hey hey, call me Santa. I am Santa. Dude that is my style…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">He had told me the same thing when we were introduced the very first time. But I had made it a point to call him his full name whenever I got the chance.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Ok. If I call you Santa, will you let me go?” I asked almost hopefully.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Santhanam chuckled and said, “No. I won’t. You don’t take care of your health nowadays. Come, we will have a good breakfast today.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So I went along, tailing Santa like a reluctant bride. While we were walking past the cubicles towards the door of our development bay, I saw my roommate, Rajat walking towards us. Rajat also worked for the same client as us and sat opposite to my cubicle. Rajat saw Santa and me walking towards him and froze in his tracks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I looked at Rajat pleadingly and tried to make my face look like a cute puppy. Rajat realized my plight, but instead of rescuing me, that Judas took out his phone and pretended to make a call and started walking in the opposite direction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Santa, do you see Rajat there? May be he hasn’t had his breakfast. Let us ask him.” If I was going down I was taking Rajat along with me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Good idea” Santa started calling out Rajat’s name.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Rajat increased his pace and went farther away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I was all for following him but Santa didn’t care that much. Santa already had a prey.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I resigned myself to my fate. After all Santhanam was not that bad. The problem was he had an opinion about everything in the world and it was impossible to shut him up. A conversation with Santa would go with him talking… “Blah blah blah…” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">One might try to interject and say something in between, but he would not let it go beyond two syllables. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Santa and I reached the food court and stared at the board on which the names of the varieties of food items were written. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Santa suddenly began, “Do you know how white boards came into existence?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I …”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“It was made to take down messages and was kept near telephones in olden days”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Oh!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“I find the use of whiteboard for display rather weird. What do you think?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Honestly, I was thinking of ways to shut him up. So I didn’t bother to answer; not that it mattered to Santa.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">He went on, “Do you know that staring at a white background can cause vision impairment? Also the markers used can cause some people to become addicted to smelling it”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Then he went on to describe the various substances to which people can get addicted. He kept it up all throughout while we were having breakfast. I realized that even food did not dilute the enthusiasm of Santa. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">He talked even while chewing food and I wished I had a face mask for protection from the rain of crumbs showering all around me. A mask for my plate of food would also have been nice. I decided to put that in my wish list for my birthday. Suffice to say that I did not eat my breakfast and poured out my bowl of cornflakes, with crumbs of idly floating in it, into the waste bin.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">We returned to our cubicles. During our walk back to our building, Santa had moved to the topic of paint thinners and how harmful they were to human lives. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Finally we arrived at Santa’s cubicle and he reluctantly let me go. Santa was working in a development project for a large Australian bank which was our company's client. Rajat and I were working for the same client but in a support project. So our cubicles were at two separate corners of the development bay. We had a common Team Lead, Bharath and I knew for certain that if Bharath was fed-up with anyone other than me, it was Santa.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I had seen Santa lecturing Bharath on the inefficiency of the team structure every now and then and once Santa had pasted a printout of Santa’s ten point plan to improve team efficiency, in Bharath’s cubicle. The first point in the list mentioned the Team Lead working on Saturdays.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">So I was assured of only a second spot in Bharath’s list of despicable people and I knew for certain that I was a distant second.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">As I neared my cube, I saw Rajat looking at me and smiling. I mouthed a profanity at him accompanied by a rude hand gesture. That only increased his merriment. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I slumped down into my chair and unlocked my computer. The day was off to a very bad start.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-27961922309285516662011-11-19T06:51:00.000-08:002011-11-19T06:51:07.377-08:00The Professional - Part6 - All is well that ends well<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I woke up with a start next morning. I had a bad dream in which I saw Rajat’s and Meera’s kid puking on me. My confidence from last night was gone. I began to wonder about a possibility of Meera accepting Rajat’s proposal. No sane girl would accept a proposal from a guy whom she barely knew, but from my experiences I had come to realise that girls were fickle and unpredictable.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Rajat also seemed subdued. He checked his Orkut account and there were no messages.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dude, no messages... What does this mean?” Rajat asked. He was looking like a lost puppy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I don’t know, Rajat” I said and it was true. I was as confused and concerned as Rajat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The bus ride to office seemed slower than usual for me. But for Rajat, the bus must have seemed to be in supersonic flight, because I noticed him look at our office building with pure dread when we reached our office. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He was already a bundle of nerves by the time we reached our cubicles. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">We found Meera already in her seat. With a kick of her heels she revolved her chair around to face us when we approached.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">My eyes darted to her hair immediately. I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw no flower in her hair. In fact she had not even bothered to tie up her hair and it fell on her shoulders making a lustrously black outline for her fair, round face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She was looking past me and I followed her gaze to find my friend, Rajat, diving into his cubicle. I turned to look at Meera.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She was looking appraisingly at me. Her eyes were like sharp needles boring into mine without mercy. I averted my gaze and quickly sat down. I wanted to switch on my computer, but for some reason my hands were shaking. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Did you have any part in it?” I heard Meera’s voice behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I froze. I did not know how to answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After a long pause that seemed like a decade, I answered in a feeble voice, “I don’t know what you are talking about”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Sure you do. You are his roommate and I am sure roommates discuss such things”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I searched my brain frantically for an answer that could paint me as an ignorant, innocent bystander, but I found none.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So I asked, “Are you referring to the message in Orkut?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No. I am talking about Obama’s election” said Meera in a mocking tone. She added, “Of course I am talking about the message and now I know that you are also involved since you identified the issue so accurately”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I gulped and tried to form some words but nothing came out.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Will you please turn towards me and tell me what the meaning of that message was?” Meera asked. I could tell that she was angry because she had raised her voice to a high pitch. I was sure that Rajat was listening to the exchange, sitting in the next cubicle.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I slowly turned and even then I made no attempt to meet her eyes. I was suddenly interested in the way my shoe laces were tied.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Sensing that she would get nothing out of me, she said, “Come with me.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Then she jumped up and swept past me and marched into Rajat’s cubicle. I followed her like a dutiful dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I found Rajat crumpled in his seat and he seemed to shrink under the glare of Meera.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera repeated her question, “What was the meaning of that message, Rajat?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">On any other occasion it would have been funny to see the sight of six foot tall, well-built Rajat cowering in front of a girl. But Meera was fuming and Rajat could be forgiven for his fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Rajat, what century are you living in? What do you know about me to fall in love with me? We know each other for just three weeks. It is childish, you know that? I didn’t think you would be like this. I took a special interest in you thinking that you are a friend who did not know how to behave in a society. And yeah...that is what you have shown. A lack of understanding of how the society functions”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Rajat looked at me beseechingly to interject and stop the tirade. But I was helpless. Meera seemed to flare in anger and I was not going to get my hands burned. I had expected a negative reaction from Meera, but not such a forceful one. Neither had I thought that she would react in the cubicle. All my hopes of ever becoming Meera’s bosom friend were lost. I would have been glad to get out of that situation with all my limbs intact because Meera looked ready to rip Rajat and me apart.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A few heads popped from nearby cubicles, apparently interested to know the reason for the commotion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera also seemed to notice the attention of others and lowered her voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She chuckled derisively, “It is typical, you know. A girl smiles and immediately you are making honeymoon plans. I feel sorry for you both.” With that she stormed out of the development bay, leaving Rajat and me staring at each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">We were lost for words. Rajat looked ready to dig a hole and bury himself and as for me, I was quite willing to join him then. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I saw Bharath walking towards us and I thought I saw a glimmer of a triumphant smile on his face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He came towards us and said, “Boys, what is all this? I heard some bits of the conversation. I am gathering that one of you gentlemen proposed to Meera. Bad, bad, bad business.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath shook his head from side to side so much so that I hoped that it would just unhinge from his neck and fall down. But nothing was going my way that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He was revelling in the moment. He continued, “You both should just hope that Meera doesn’t take this issue up with the HR. If she does, I will have no choice but to support her. Anyways, I am having lunch with Meera today. I will try to put in a good word about you both. Ease things off a bit, you know” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He went back to his cubicle. I envisioned him giving Meera a pen to write a complaint to the HR.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I went back to my place and slumped down in my chair. All my plans were down the drain. I was devastated. I stretched back in my chair and remained staring at the ceiling for a long time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I must have remained like that for over twenty minutes when Meera walked into the cubicle. Seeing her, I quickly sat up and switched on my computer. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera hesitated for a moment and then said, “I am sorry for the earlier outburst. I don’t know what came over me. I had come in the morning thinking that I would talk to you people calmly and make you both understand my situation. But then after coming to office, I called my fiance and he got very angry and that got me also all riled up and...”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Your what?” I cut her off.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah, I am engaged and getting married next month. I should have told you before. But I did not want to say anything without the invitation card” She took out an ornate cover out of her bag and extended it to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I was lost for words and looked at her with a hapless look on my face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“His name is Sujith. We were schoolmates. Now both our families have agreed. We were waiting for him to get a job. He still has some back papers from engineering college. But he got a job with a bank last month. He interacts with the people who default on the loans. He has such great convincing skills. He is doing pretty well in his new job.” Meera was beaming with pride while she was talking about Sujith.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh? He is a collection agent?” I asked while praying in my mind for it to be not true.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Collection agent? Yeah, I think that is the title of his job. Isn’t it great? He is just perfect except for his temper. You know, he was going to come over here from Kerala when I told him about the message that Rajat sent yesterday”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I gulped and asked in a squeaky voice, “You told him about Rajat only right? You would not have mentioned anything about me, right? I mean, why would you? Did you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah. I told him about you also. I told him that you would have helped Rajat in the whole business”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Terrific” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I just hoped at that moment that I would be alive to see my next birthday.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Meera, I would like to apologise for all our mistakes. We did not know that you were engaged. I don’t blame you for getting angry. And know that I am truly sorry. Please tell Sujith also that I am sorry.” I was genuinely apologetic.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera smiled and said, “Apology accepted. Please tell Rajat also about my marriage and both of you should come for my marriage.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I think I am going to be busy that day”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“But you don’t even know the marriage date”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh. What is the date?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“18<sup>th</sup> of next month”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah, I am busy that day. Sorry. May be Rajat will be able to make it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera decided not to push it. She said, “Please explain the situation to Rajat. You are a good friend to him. One in a million”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She went to her place and started off with her work. My mind was too agitated to work.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> I was merely going through the motions when I saw Bharath coming to take Meera out for lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hey Meera, May be you should invite Bharath to your marriage during the lunch.” I suggested.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah. Good idea. I need to talk to him about my transfer also.” Meera agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After I saw Bharath and Meera walk away for lunch, I went over to Rajat’s cubicle. I gave him the invitation card, patted his shoulder and said, “She is not angry anymore. And let it go. It is too late.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I saw genuine sorrow on Rajat’s face then. I stayed with him and soothed him for a while. We finally got up to leave for lunch when I saw Bharath and Meera returning from lunch. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath looked at me and I saw an invitation card in his hand. I did not feel elated. I felt a kinship with Bharath. We both were losers in the battle. I nodded at Bharath and he returned it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera came forward and shook Rajat’s hand and said, “Sorry” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Rajat stood staring after her for a while.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I finally took his arm and guided him towards the elevator.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">THE END<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Epilogue:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera eventually got a transfer to the Trivandrum centre of our company.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She got married to Sujith and as far as I know, is still happy in her marriage. I did not attend the marriage, neither did Rajat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Rajat moved to Chennai and he found someone interesting, who found him also interesting. I hear that they are planning to tie the knot soon.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath never invited anyone ever again for lunch. He eventually got married.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As for me, well I continue to be a damn good professional...</span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-89550319712104412112011-11-18T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-19T08:50:03.343-08:00The Professional - Chapter - 5 - The Leap of Faith<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Hi Buddy” I said with an apologetic smile. I was the first one to wish Rajat as we approached him.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meera had not noticed him until then. She turned around and smiled at him and asked, “Hi Rajat. How are you? Had your lunch?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat was still staring at me. Meera’s smile softened his features a little bit. Still his voice was gruff when he spoke, “Yeah I had lunch. You two had lunch together?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“No, not just us… Bharath had plans of having lunch with Meera. I went along with them.” I stressed on Bharath’s name and looked at Rajat meaningfully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Why would Bharath have lunch with Meera? He never invited any of us for lunch before.” Rajat was not getting the picture yet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I guess he is being friendly”, I said with an extra stress on ‘friendly’, and to drive home the point, I winked at Rajat without Meera noticing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It finally dawned on Rajat. He said, “Oh. Ok. I see. Yeah, he is becoming very friendly nowadays.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">With that he walked back to his cubicle. Meera entered our cubicle and I was about to follow when I heard a low whistle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I looked at Rajat, he mouthed, “Thank you”, gave me thumbs up and went into his cubicle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was in high spirits. My plans had worked extremely well until then. I had to get a little bit more close to Meera and then the culmination of my plans would arrive. I would propose. Meanwhile I would have to get Rajat out of the picture. That would be tricky. I didn’t want Rajat to know what my true intentions were all that while. I couldn’t come up with any ideas as I sat down in my place and logged in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">As expected, I found six new tickets in my queue and a mail from Bharath asking me to give an update the same day. I smiled, put the problem of Rajat out of my mind for the time being and started off with the tickets.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I left office very late that day. Rajat had taken an earlier bus. He was waiting for me when I reached home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">“Dude, you did well today. Thanks for not letting Meera go alone with that p****” Rajat must have been extremely agitated; else he would not have used an </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">invective</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 115%;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was modest, “Yeah, I am just happy to help buddy”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“No. You are a true friend. One in a million”, Rajat was showering me with praises.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Well I try”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ok, my friend. I am going to tell you something important. I have decided, dude. I am going to do it.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat had a very serious expression. His breathing was heavy. His whole demeanour was like that of a man who had taken a tough but inevitable decision; intensity emanated from all parts of his six foot frame.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I did not respond. I waited for Rajat to make his announcement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I am going to propose to Meera”, Rajat announced in a defiant tone. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He looked at me searching for any expression on my face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">All that he would have seen on my face would have been surprise. Not anger, not pity, just pure surprise. I was not imagining such a development. It was so soon. Rajat knew Meera for a little over 3 weeks and he was already contemplating professing his love to her. It was stupid and sure to result in failure.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I said, “Good. I think you should do that”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was Rajat’s turn to be surprised, “Really? You are not going to ask me to wait?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“No no. I think it has to be spontaneous and soon. Otherwise, Bharath or someone else might make a move on her. You are right in this case. You have to propose.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In my mind I was playing out the outcome. Meera would obviously reject the proposal. There would be future awkwardness. So she would have to clear her doubts with me, opening up a route for me to be a bosom friend of hers, thereby making it impossible for her to reject me when I made my proposal. I was thankful to Rajat. He had solved the problem that was troubling me in the afternoon. Once he is rejected, I would be free to make a move on Meera and that too without the fear of Rajat’s ire.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“So when and how are you planning to do it, Rajat?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I am planning to send a message”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“WHAT?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yeah, I don’t have the guts to go and tell her face to face. I cannot send the mail from office id. What if she escalates it to the HR? So I have decided to send it as a message in Orkut. How is my idea?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a very bad idea. It removed any remaining doubts about Meera rejecting the proposal.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So I said, “Ok man. Draft the message and let me take a look at it before you send it.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat hurried to his laptop like a caged animal which found its cage door open. He immediately set to work on his love message.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile I freshened up and I was already in a good mood. All the troubles of the office work were left behind. Rajat was digging his own grave and I didn’t have to move a muscle to goad him to do it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When I came out from a cold shower, I found Rajat waiting for me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“How is the love letter coming along, buddy? I have to say it is a bit old school but girls usually fall for such age old methods”, I was enjoying myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“That is the problem, dude. I don’t know what to write”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ok let me do it for you” I was at my helpful best.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I sat down at Rajat’s laptop and found a blank message window already open.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I began to write,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hi Meera,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Roses are red, violets are blue,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Sugar is sweet, and so are you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meera, I have wanted to tell you how much I love you ever since I met you. I just didn’t find the courage. That is why I am professing my undying love and devotion to you by this message. I will take care of you till my last breath and will stand by you in the toughest of times. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I love you. If you feel the same about me, please wear a flower in your hair tomorrow to office.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">With Lots of Love,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Rajat<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Come on, Rajat. Read and learn from the master”, I told Rajat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Rajat read the whole passage and said, “It is good, but isn’t the flower in the hair a little too much? It sounds very cheesy, like it is coming out of some very old movie”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“No no. That is how these things go. Romance is always a bit weird, dude”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ok. Alright, I will take your word for it. So here it goes”, Rajat took a deep breath and hit the send button.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There was a chill in the room after that. Neither of us spoke much that night. Even when we went to bed, we were lost in our own thoughts. I kept twisting and turning on my bed wondering what would happen next day and at some unknown late hour succumbed to sleep.</span></span>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-15681726574031288202011-11-18T08:43:00.000-08:002011-11-18T08:43:49.513-08:00The Professional - Chapter 4 - Two is company, three’s a crowd<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Those days, going to office was a very interesting affair. Not because of the work. The work was boring, but the thought of sitting in a cubicle with Meera, made the journey worth its while.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Couple of days since I gave my new directions to Rajat, my plans seemed to really take off. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The days that I spent in an engineering college were not completely wasted. I had perfected technique of sleeping with my eyes open during the engineering lectures. I had continued to employ that technique in my office as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So when Meera tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Were you sleeping?” Meera asked with a curious smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No no, no, nooooo. I was just lost in thought. I always think a lot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“OK. Anyways, I wanted to tell you that, I think my efforts with Rajat are really making a difference”, Meera said in a proud tone.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Really? How can you say that?” I feigned surprise.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Well, it is this and that, you know. He is very nice to me nowadays. He does almost all my work for me and he even drafts the mails for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh that is great. You are really helping him and me. Thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I just feel for Rajat, you know. He is such a good guy deep down.” Meera said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I didn’t like what I was hearing. Rajat was overdoing it. I made a mental note to tell him to back off a little. “Meera thinks that you are smothering her. Give her space dude.” I could tell him that at night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">With that note safely stored away, I decided to take my plan a step forward. It was lunch time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">So I asked, “Say Meera, have you had lunch?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No I haven’t” she replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Mm… Err… Ok… So I was thinking of going to the cafeteria for lunch; and Mmmm… Err… I was wondering, I mean, if we could have lunch together. I mean, have lunch from separate plates of course, but together, as in sitting at a table together, I mean, on opposite sides of the table.” A lot of blood had rushed to my head and I grabbed on to my chair for support. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Any guy who saw me then would have understood that I had a crush on Meera. But girls seem to have the ability to ignore the obvious. Meera didn’t seem to notice my stammer or may be all guys stammer when they talk to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera frowned apologetically and said, “Oh I am sorry. Bharath asked me to join him for lunch.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“WHAT?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Of course, Bharath...That snivelling, whiny man who made my life miserable. Our team lead…<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Now it all made sense to me. The plan of bringing Meera into the team; Taking her out on lunch; Oh he was a piece of work. The brilliance of his plan hit me and I smiled admiringly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I added in a sad tone, “Oh ok. Alright” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">But my mind was racing furiously. All along I was concentrating on Rajat and I had failed to see the threat from other quarters. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera did notice my sad tone and suddenly she said in an excited tone, as though she had made an important discovery, “Oh I know. Why don’t you come along with us? We all can have lunch together”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I smiled. It was a genuine smile. Nothing gave me more pleasure than irritating Bharath. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I didn’t have to think twice about answering, “Yes. What a good idea. Come on. Let us go find Bharath and tell him the good news.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath was busy assigning the tickets in our team’s queue, when we reached his cubicle. He smiled at Meera and said, “I am coming, Meera; Just give me a minute.” Then he noticed me and his smile faded.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Hi, any problem?” He was abrupt.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Lunch” I said with a broad smile on my face.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What?” Bharath was confused<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“He is joining us for lunch” Meera said noticing Bharath’s confusion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath looked at me and then at Meera and back at me. Then without a word he turned and assigned two more tickets to my queue.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">During lunch, Meera proved to be a good conversationalist. She spoke about weather and her training days and college days and a host of other things. Bharath and I, we were great listeners, oohing and aahing at appropriate moments and laughing at every joke that she said. But even while laughing, Bharath would glance at me and suddenly become serious. Watching him doing it, gave me a great deal of happiness. The feeling was worth the two extra tickets in my queue.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">After lunch we went back to our cubicles. Bharath was apparently more irritable than usual. I decided to push my luck a little further.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I told Meera, “You know Bharath was in the first standard when Indira Gandhi’s assassination took place. Isn’t it, Bharath? He got to experience that dark day”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath looked at me with murder written all over his face. If eyes could pierce, I would have had two giant holes in my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera asked with apparent interest, “Oh is it? That is so cool. It would have been pretty scary. As for me, I was born only in 1986. So I have only heard of those days.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yeah, Bharath has lived out history. He is like a very wise old man. We all ask his advice from time to time” I added with a smirk.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Bharath quickly said bye and dove into his cubicle. I imagined him assigning two more tickets to me, if not all of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I was very happy with the outcome of the lunch. I had managed to deliver a stinging blow to Bharath’s approaches to Meera. Now I would have to tread carefully. I feelt pretty smug about my success.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Meera and I walked back to our cubicles chatting easily. As we reached our cubicle, I saw Rajat waiting there. He was looking at us walking towards him and I could tell that he was not enjoying the sight. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He kept glaring at me with a hurt expression as we approached him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-55858071624011783372011-11-18T08:38:00.000-08:002011-11-18T08:38:41.955-08:00The Professional - Chapter - 3 All work and No play<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Office is a place to work. But what comes under the purview of work is not well-defined. I am one among the many people who use this loophole to their advantage. I was trying to basket a piece of paper into the wastebasket kept at the farthest corner of the cubicle, when Meera walked in with a frown on her face.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Three days had passed since Rajat started acting rude to her, as per my directions. And by each day I had noticed Meera growing more and more agitated. I had watched these developments with a wicked smile.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meera walked straight towards me and asked, “Rajat is your friend right?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Hmm… He is kind of an acquaintance.” I answered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“But he is your roommate.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yes that he is. But we talk very less and I never speak office matters with him and I definitely don’t give any advice to him”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I can see that. He is sooooo rude and you are really nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was beaming with happiness. The happiness that one feels when a pretty girl tells you are nice is indescribable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Aah…Mm…Err… Thank you”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But Meera didn’t acknowledge my gratitude. Instead she asked, “Is Rajat always so bad in his behaviour?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yeah, kind of… I don’t know… He is my roommate. I shouldn’t probably say anything.” I was given the opportunity to deliver more damage to Rajat and I was lapping it up like a hungry cat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Ok. I understand.” Meera said<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was not finished, “But I can tell you that he barely speaks at home and he is always angry towards the whole world and very pessimistic in his outlook. He sees a cute puppy and says that it is going to grow old and die. I mean what kind of a person says such a thing. He is… He is…” I was searching for an apt word to provide a crowning effect to the tirade against Rajat, when Meera thoughtfully completed the sentence, “He is damaged.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I thought for a moment whether that word was sufficient.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> I felt that calling Rajat crazy or terming him as an alien or something more dramatic would have been appropriate; but I didn’t want to disagree with Meera. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So I also chimed, “Yes, he is damaged; damaged beyond repair. So damaged that…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meera cut me off, “But I can change him.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Say what?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I can change him. Oh this is so exciting. Rajat is the kind of guy who doesn’t understand what it means to be nice. I want to show him how to be nice. I want to help him. Oh the poor man. How sad that he had to grow up not knowing what it is like to be treated with respect and being gentle with others. I am sure he had a traumatic childhood.” Meera was so animated that she used her hands to gesture her joy. She was happy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I stood rooted to the spot. The world was crashing around me. How could this happen? I had a perfect plan to paint Rajat in a very bad light in front of Meera and here she was ready to take him up as her pet project.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I finally found my voice, even then it was a squeak, “That is great.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Meera left the cubicle, apparently to start working on her plans to change Rajat. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I didn’t move a muscle for the next 5 minutes. My brain was working overtime. Finally, I sighed and smiled. I had a plan. The situation was bad but not irredeemable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">That evening during the bus ride home, Rajat was going ballistic about Meera.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Dude, you wouldn’t believe what happened today. Meera was very nice to me. She asked about my home. She asked about my studies. She was impressed with my academic achievements and even patted my shoulder. She patted my shoulder, man”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yeah, that is great, Rajat; that is great.” I was fuming.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I have to thank you man. You are a genius.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yes, I am a freaking genius.” I said through clenched teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I kept to myself during the journey and Rajat didn’t ask me why. Why would he? He had received a pat on the shoulder from Meera.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">At night, I casually brought up the subject of Meera again, with Rajat. I said, “So you think our plan is working, huh?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yes, man. Working gloriously… Hats off to your brain” Rajat was full of praise for me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Yeah, yeah, now it is time to execute the second phase of our plan.” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh is it? Tell me what to do” Rajat was eager.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Tomorrow onwards you are going to drop the act of being rude and behave nicely to Meera. You should be very convincing. Help her out in the support activities… Speak politely and just forget about being mean to her.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“Phew. This is a good plan. You don’t know how difficult it was for me to be mean to her before. I mean, how can one look at her and say anything rude?” Rajat was obviously relieved.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“I like this plan of yours. I like it better than the previous plan of yours.” he continued.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I smiled. Not the smile of a victor, but a more cautious hopeful smile. I had read somewhere that girls always think that they can change guys and make them better. I figured that when Meera saw Rajat’s change in behaviour, she would think that she had succeeded and drop the whole issue. She would be happy with her success, but then Rajat would cease to be important to her. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I went to bed thinking about how Meera would run to me to announce her success with Rajat and how I would congratulate her, praise her people skills and then suggest that I give her a treat in CCD for improving my roommate thereby making my life better. I dreamed about us sipping coffee and talking while the guys passing by watched us in envy. I slowly fell asleep with a mischievous smile still playing on my lips.</span></span>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-83914170522915424342011-11-18T05:20:00.000-08:002011-11-18T05:23:58.575-08:00The Professional - Chapter 2 - La Belle Dame“Meera, Meera, Meera. Why oh God? Why? Why is this so? And you, Rajat, you didn’t find anyone else interesting in this whole world?” I wanted to shout out at Rajat.<div><br />But on the contrary, I surprised myself by remaining calm. It all made sense to me. Meera was the centre of attraction for several guys in office. She joined our team two weeks ago, a 2008 engineering graduate from some college in Kerala. She had told me the name of the college when we were first introduced but it did not register. I had been busy staring at her. I usually don’t ogle at people of the opposite sex (or same sex for that matter), but i believe the fault was not mine in that case. Why should somebody be so attractive and expect not to be ogled at? </div><div><br />I had my share of misunderstandings with my team lead. To put it mildly, I believed he belonged in a separate planet where apes ruled, but I had wanted to kiss his flabby cheeks and thank him for not only getting her in our team but also for seating her in my cubicle.</div><div><br />Since that fateful day two weeks ago, I had noticed a flurry of activity in my cubicle. Guys from other cubicles started to frequent my cubicle under several pretexts. People I had never spoken to had started to come and ask “How are you buddy? What is going on?” trying to pick up a conversation.</div><div><br />My team lead, a bachelor, had suddenly begun to take a sudden interest in my wellbeing. It had all resulted in my losing a quiet afternoon nap I used to enjoy in my cubicle.</div><div><br />But I myself was not immune to the effects of Meera. She had caused quite a flutter in the whole Development Bay, and I had to be inhuman to escape that.</div><div><br />She had a round face, with slightly chubby cheeks perfected by two dimples which sprang to life whenever she smiled. She was fair and the most noticeable feature on her face was her wide eyes which meandered beautifully in the corners. She accentuated the sensuous effect of her eyes by applying Kajal lightly on her eye lashes. She had a slight athletic build and even though she usually wore loose salwars, they could not completely diminish the grace of her body.</div><div><br />So when Rajat told me that he found Meera interesting, I was not surprised. I glanced at Rajat. He had been watching me trying to guage my reaction. It was dark in the bus; else he would have read murder in my eyes.</div><div><br />“Oh, that is cool Rajat. So you think Meera is interesting, huh? Why is that?” I had to make an effort to keep my voice level.</div><div><br />“She has a very charming personality. She talked to me the other day regarding the applications that she would have to support and all the while I couldn’t put two words together in front of her. Why is that?”</div><div><br />“Becuase you are dumb and belong in a museum”, I had to hold myself from blurting out. Instead I replied, “Dude that happens to almost every guy when they speak to a pretty lady.”<br />“Oh but I have seen you speak to her and I just wish I had your confidence.” Rajat said ruefully.</div><div><br />“Ah, well some people are naturally endowed with such confidence. But we are a very rare breed.” I felt slightly smug. The situation was under my control.</div><div><br />“By the way, do you like her?” I wanted to gather more information before I put my master plan into action.</div><div><br />“I don’t know. I mean… I feel my throat dry up when I try talking to her. I cannot keep myself from staring at her every once in a while. I don’t know. What does all this mean? Does it mean that I am in Love?” Rajat blurted all this in one breath.</div><div><br />“Now now, hold on. You have to think twice before using the ‘L’ word. Hmm… You know what I think? I think you have a crush on Meera. Crushes happen all the time to everyone.”<br />“Really?”</div><div><br />“Sure. Once in my college I had a crush on two or three ladies at the same time. I used to stare at them all the time and finally it all just vanished.” I was playing the role of a Love doctor with élan.<br />“Wow. How did it all go away?” I could tell that Rajat was impressed.<br />“Well, one of the girls told her boyfriend and we had a chat and then I… See that is not that important. What is important is that your crush for Meera will vanish in a while.” I said<br />“Ok.” Rajat was not that convinced.</div><div><br />During the rest of the bus ride, Rajat was quieter than usual. I knew it was only a matter of time before he sought me out again for some more advice. And that time I would be ready.</div><div><br />That night Rajat cornered me once again while I was slotting in a second goal past Real Madrid in FIFA08 in my PC.</div><div><br />“I cannot seem to get Meera out of my head. I don’t think it is just a crush. Dude, you have to help me.” Rajat said in a pleading tone.</div><div><br />I paused the game and sighed dramatically and turned to meet him with a bored expression. But my brain was playing out the different replies and suggestions that I should make.</div><div><br />Rajat said, “Sorry. You are the one who has experience in such situations. Please help me.”</div><div><br />I looked at the pleading face of Rajat and for a moment I felt bad for what I was about to do. But then I steeled myself and reminded myself that Rajat was a potential rival and I had to vanquish him.</div><div><br />“Ok Rajat. Listen to me carefully. If you believe you love Meera, you have to play the game with care.”</div><div><br />“What game?”</div><div><br />“The game of Love, my friend, the game of love… Girls like Meera are rare to come by and she will have several people swooning over her trying to impress her. So you are in for a tough fight.”</div><div><br />“So what do I do?” worry was written all over Rajat’s face.</div><div><br />“Rajat, let me complete. I was coming to that. As I was saying girls like Meera will have many guys around her trying to be very nice and friendly with her. So you should be mean towards her.”</div><div><br />There was silence in the room for a while. I let the idea sink in. He was sitting motionless on his bed and blinked his eyes in disbelief.</div><div><br />“I have to be mean to her?” Rajat seemed shocked by the very idea. He was always very polite to everybody and I could see that this idea was not to his liking. But the success of my plans depended on him taking my advice and acting upon it.</div><div><br />So I turned on my charm and said, “Look Rajat, Meera and you have common applications to support. So she will approach you with her doubts. You have to be rude to her. You have to behave as though you are tired of helping her.”</div><div><br />“But I…”<br />“It is all part of the plan, man. You keep this charade up for a week and we will then discuss further strategy. By then you will see Meera taking more interest in you”</div><div><br />Rajat was confused. But he seemed to trust my knowledge in such matters. For a moment I felt bad, but it was inevitable. He had to go down.</div><div><br />Finally Rajat spoke. “Alright man. I see your logic. I will do that.”</div><div><br />With a satisfied air of a victor, I turned my attention to the screen. Rajat was too busy thinking about Meera to notice the sly grin spreading across my face.<br /></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-84294328635757215382011-11-13T04:39:00.000-08:002011-11-18T05:27:03.113-08:00The Professional - The Start<div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt; padding:0cm;mso-padding-alt:0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I had hit a roadblock in creativity and was struggling to find at least a tinge of the drive that I had earlier, to write stories or articles, when my fiancée said to me that she would personally come down to my apartment and put me to swords if I didn’t write anything within this week. Now, I am not easily scared by any threats; unless of course I know them to be true. In this particular case I knew that she would have been true to her words, had I not written this bit and so I have cooked this thing up. Read up and blame any mistakes that you find, on Ms. (soon to be Mrs.) Radhika for coaxing this unwilling soul to write.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">The Professional<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">There was once a time, a decade ago or so, when a job in the software industry was the Holy Grail for most Indian engineers. Every engineering college in the country, with very few exceptions, solicited the presence of software companies to kick start their placement season, back then. Parents wanted their children to land a software job or marry a person who was a software engineer. The hysteria and the awe associated with a job in a software company were such that it seemed too good to last. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Now in 2011, the charm of software jobs have declined and it took a recession to bring everyone back to earth. Pragmatic people are aware of what a software job is; a way to step a rung of the ladder up from the middle class hoping that one day our kids will achieve the transition from middle to high class. We sport all kinds of branded accessories trying to show that we belong with the elite while secretly dreading that one day the company might show us the door and that, that day could be as near as the next. But I have observed that such pragmatism and a mildly sinister outlook to the profession usually sets in only after a few years in the industry. This is so because, most companies have a knack of impressing the fresh graduates with the smell of quick cash and making them feel important. It takes a while for reality to set in and by that time it is too late to do anything about it. The first one to three years in a company are the most dangerous. The new-found financial independence and also in most cases, life away from parents and relatives, tend to give people a false sense of immunity and an intoxicating confidence to take on the entire world. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">It is also during this time that many love affairs spring to life. The professionals, young boys and girls, having made a transition into ladies and gentlemen, have to work in close quarters which when coupled with their sense of freedom and confidence can produce interesting scenarios. <i> </i>I was witness to such a very interesting development during my tenure in a software company.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I met Rajat when he joined my project team in May, 2008 as a software engineer. He was picked from a very prestigious engineering college campus of Tamilnadu by our company. My first impression of him was that he had his nose so very high up in the air that it must be impossible for him to smell even his own moustache if it caught fire. But over the next few weeks, I came to interact with him and then I realised that the air of superiority was indeed the result of an inherent diffidence that prevented him from approaching people and engaging them in a conversation.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Since Rajat was new to Bangalore, he did not have many friends around and so I travelled with him during some weekends to the nearby places and we enjoyed each other’s company. It was not long before we became good friends and that was a welcome change for me too because until then I had only colleagues and no friends in my project.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Rajat was dark complexioned and had a disarming innocence that put anybody who talked to him at ease. But it was quite another thing that he did not know how to put that charm of his, to any use. Most people had a similar impression of him, like the one I had when I first laid eyes on him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I told him about this one day. I said, “Rajat, look buddy, you do understand that you come across as a snob...err... initially, don’t you? You have to smile at people and open up to people more readily. You can have many more friends if you only talk to other people.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">It was lunch time and he was about to put a spoonful of rice in his mouth. He froze midway and gave me an incredulous look. “Why would I need more friends?” There was a hint of genuine bewilderment in his voice. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I was lost for words for a moment. I quickly put a spoonful of rice and pretended to savour it before answering him. “Rajat, we are all social animals. We need our friends and family around us to support us. And having more friends cannot hurt you... You scratch someone’s back today and they might scratch yours some other time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“Scratch some one? What are you talking about?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“It is an expression... Never mind. What I am saying is that you should socialise more. Get to know people who seem interesting to you. Talk to them and try to befriend them.” I was not about to let up on him yet. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Rajat was thoughtful for a while. He had stopped eating, which was very unusual. Usually, he ate his food with a gusto that would have put starving hyenas to shame. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I smiled benignly. I knew I was getting through to him. I felt good about myself. Here I was, helping a friend to overcome his diffidence and being a true friend. “I should remember to pat myself on the back later”, I thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Rajat continued to be silent throughout the lunch. When we were washing our hands, I was genuinely concerned. I asked him, “What are you thinking about? You have been silent for a long time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“I was thinking about what you said. It is true I should get to know people whom I find interesting. I shouldn’t be shy.” his face was grave when he replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“Yes. Exactly. Come on let us go buy some juice and put our laundry bags in front of Laundromat. Now itself the queue would have reached the main gate.” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Rajat was still thoughtful. We went to Laundromat and placed our bags in the queue and waited for a while to smirk at the people who were placing their bags behind ours. Even that didn’t seem to cheer Rajat up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I didn’t push the issue any further. I knew that he would come around eventually and empty his heart out to me, not by any virtue of mine, but I was the only friend he had in Bangalore. I returned to my cubicle to attend to a client issue that was assigned to me some two months back, which I had efficiently procrastinated until then. Rajat, who sat in the opposite cubicle, was not his usual self. Normally, he would have dived headlong into his work and wouldn’t take a peek away from his monitor until his work was completed. But not that day. I caught him staring at the ceiling and also gnawing his finger nails once in a while. “Hmm, finally the boy is growing up.”, I thought.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">In the evening, we sat in the company shuttle to go home. Rajat had moved in with me couple of weeks back when my ex-roomie went onsite. I didn’t like my ex-roommate, and his going onsite did not endear him to me in any way. But on the bright side, I now had Rajat as my roomie.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I finally decided to take the high road. I asked him, “What is troubling you, my friend, and my partner in crime?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“Crime?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“Oh come on, dude. You have to learn these overdramatic statements of mine.” I sounded exasperated. Then I added in a mellow tone,”Anyways, I was merely asking you what is troubling you.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Rajat looked at me and said,”I was thinking about what you said at lunch time... About how I should get to know people whom I find interesting.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“Yes. It is true. I have been known to speak the truth from time to time.” I once again felt good about myself at being able to help a friend.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“There is someone I find very interesting and whom I would like to get to know. And I started thinking seriously about it, after the speech that you gave me in the afternoon.” Rajat was choosing his words carefully and was speaking in a panting tone. It was not easy for him to tell me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">I instantly realised where this was going. But since it was Rajat, I had to be sure. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“Who is it?” I asked. I couldn’t hide my amusement. Until then I hadn’t figured Rajat to be capable of finding anybody <i>interesting</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">Rajat opened his mouth and no sound came out. He opened and closed his mouth a few more times like a fish out of water and then said in a whisper, “Meera”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;line-height:115%">“WHAT?” It was my turn to gasp for air.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-54647243668314692342010-11-06T22:13:00.000-07:002010-11-06T22:14:38.904-07:00Bouquet of Flowers<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">I know that you have travelled far away from me and my voice cannot touch you. Your eyes can no longer flash with bright, wanton love. Your hands can never caress my hair again, while we lose ourselves in a sublime kiss. I can no longer hold you close to my heart, heaving with emotion. I remember your touch and your embrace, while you held on, never wanting to let go. I wish we could lose ourselves in such an embrace just once more.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">As I watch you in your casket, I know that the limp body lying there is not you. Your spirit and passion defined you and now that you are gone, all that remains is a body that resembles you. You have flown away like a young bird in new flight, leaving its nest forever never to return. But, I believe that my love must be weighing you down like water on your feathers. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><div style="text-align: justify;">People walk around me whispering their condolences. I nod solemnly but all the while, I can do nothing but picture you waiting for me at the other side of the lake beckoning me to join you. Wait right there baby, I am coming soon with a bouquet of your favorite lilies…</div></span>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-80345770024279369902010-09-30T22:44:00.000-07:002010-10-01T06:24:12.202-07:00The Old Lady of the Sea<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">The waves broke and clawed at the rocks but were gentle on the sands. The sands felt the love of the waves as they ebbed and caressed the sands. The rocks on the other hand were feeling the ire of the sea while wave after wave charged like angry bulls at the rocks. The sun was barely visible in the horizon. Twilight was spreading with the clouds creating hues of red in the sky. The flaming clouds stood in awe of the sun and they seemed to give him an ovation, a grand farewell before he made way for the night and shivering stars.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">She stood and watched the sea. The end of the shawl, tightly wrapped around her neck, billowed about her. She dug her frail old feet into the sand and felt the same warmth that she felt over the past seventy two years. The waves encircled her feet with familiarity. The Sea had been her friend ever since she could remember. Her father was a man of the sea as well. She used to play writing her name on the sand and then the sea would erase her calligraphy. When she was young, Sea was her playmate, her bridesmaid when she got married, and her bosom friend in whom she confided everything. The Sea was of her age and a perfect friend. Undemanding and always willing to listen, the waves had always been there for her when she wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">She strained her eyes and searched the horizon for her son’s boat. Her eyes did not serve her well but the waves always seemed to tell her when her son was approaching. He was late and she was growing impatient.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Her son, Abel was a true son of the sea, she thought. He started to accompany his father in his fishing boat at the age of ten. His father taught him everything about the sea; the places to look for the largest school of fish, how to cast the net for hauling in the shrimps, how to use a rod and bait for the sardines and herrings, and most importantly how to feel at home at sea. She remembered how he brought home his first catch. He was beaming with pride and did not leave her side while she cut, cleaned and cooked it. Over dinner table that day he was as proud and solemn as the man who put food on the table. She smiled when she remembered his attempt to sound very mature with his squeaky young voice that night.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">She had to admit that he grew up to be a great fisherman like his father. She always tried to ignore that he was fast growing and wanted him to remain as her little boy forever. But he grew up and began to take care of her rather than the other way around. When his father passed away, he took care of the entire funeral and stood strong. He was twenty two then but was far mature for his age. She still remembered how he stood in front of his father’s grave, shed a single drop of tear and wiped it away as though annoyed by it, and finally walked away. She had realized back then that he had grown up and she had to come to terms with it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Since then she had resigned herself to the fact that she had to let her son take care of her. He used to get up by five in the morning, cook food for both of them, boil water for her wash and then head out to the sea with a packet of food clutched in his hands. He had continued to use his father’s boat and had refused all offers from other bigger boats to join them. He said he was happy with what he had and happy at being his own captain and crew. He was an independent soul, a hardened sailor who loved the sea. Every evening he would return before nightfall with the day’s catch and sell it to old man John, his dealer. She always waited for him by the shore. It had been her practice when her father and later on her husband used to go to the sea. She continued to do that for her son too.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:150%"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Then one day, four months ago, he had gone fishing. The radio had crackled about bad weather at sea by mid noon. She had rushed to the shore to find several boats returning heeding the warning. She knew her stubborn son. She feared that he loved the sea more than anything else and would stay longer and be with the sea, his foster mother. He did not return that day or the next day or the day after that. The police had come and taken her statements. They said they were sorry for her loss. “What loss?” she had asked them. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">She knew in her heart that he would return. He was just running a little late. She refused to believe that the Sea would separate Abel from her. The Sea was part of her. She told the sea how annoyed she was with her for keeping Abel away for so long. She knew that the old lady, the Sea would return her son to her. So every day in the evening she walked from her lonely house to the shore to wait. People said she was crazy. When she stood there watching the horizon for the silhouette of her son’s boat, she knew that she did not care for what others had to say. She merely wanted to be there when her son returned.</span></span><p></p>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-60517286846435393022010-09-16T06:12:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:35:39.544-07:00Lonely night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TJRBFxXEDrI/AAAAAAAAABQ/_jEUXBGSooQ/s1600/star600.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TJRBFxXEDrI/AAAAAAAAABQ/_jEUXBGSooQ/s320/star600.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518107010840923826" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">It is night. I gaze out of my window. A small part of the infinite sky is visible to me. There is a star shining in my view. I watch the star. She seems so insignificant and tiny; A blot in a perfect black canvas. She blinks once like a candle in wind, but continues to shine on with stubborn resolve.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She must be lonely up there. She must have been shining before I was born and will continue to shine every night long after I am gone. She shines as one among many stars lighting the night, but still is lonely.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are nights when I feel lonely too. But I cannot even imagine the star's predicament. She is destined to appear every night and twinkle in the sky. Some of the days, she might get lucky and a few people might notice her; but then she is no different from the other stars.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She is not the brightest of the stars. She is not part of any constellation either. I noticed her today only because my window is a small one. Had my window been a bigger one, I would have gazed at brighter stars. But I feel happy that I found her. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have to leave. I can no longer stare at her. I take one long glance at her. She blinks as if to say goodbye. She will be waiting, tomorrow night and nights to come, for me. But I do not think I will notice her amongst the others. My escapade ends here. It was a very short one, but the briefness of the moment made it all the more beautiful.</div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-69433068827371955382010-09-14T09:57:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:37:01.682-07:00Nothing but Death<div style="text-align: justify;">I live... live on... for what purpose? I do not know. The world stares at me and I stare back. The contempt is mutual. I am weary and cant wait for the sweet liberation of Death. I do not fear Death nor despise it. I do not picture a dark hooded figure with a cleaver waiting to hack my soul to pieces. I am waiting for the angel of Death.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I do not want Heaven. I do not picture meadows where lilies and roses blossom. I do not want to hear sweet ditties sung by angels playing harps. I do not want to feast nor drink. I want freedom. I want Death.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What transpires through a person's mind when he is about to jump from the precipice of a hill or the tallest building he could find? The last leap to freedom, the final flight of a man while he is falling to certain death... It must be exhilarating. I am sure he must have a smile of defiance playing on his lips. Finally, despite all the conspiracies of Universe, he takes control of his life, looks Life in the eye, lets it go and embraces Death. He is the real Hero.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I am no hero. So I keep staring in disgust. I am waiting for the beautiful sensation of Death to find me. I am waiting...</div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-68399180813064809032010-09-03T01:43:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:45:46.515-07:00Love - Reloaded, Part 4, Finale<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TIDUav6IStI/AAAAAAAAABA/n9FOKgxBABk/s1600/lost+love.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TIDUav6IStI/AAAAAAAAABA/n9FOKgxBABk/s320/lost+love.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512639499903453906" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="apple-style-span"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif";font-family:";color:black;">Surya waited for Tanvi beneath the Gulmohar tree, like he had done on numerous occasions.</span> But he was not eager to meet her this time. He did not feel ready for the meeting. His stomach growled. He had forgotten to have lunch and his stomach was registering a strong protest. He was wearing the new sky-blue shirt which he had purchased only the day before. He was sweating profusely and the sweat created dark spots on the shirt and turned it into a darker shade. Surya felt anxious and dizzy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Tanvi was coming towards the Gulmohar from the academic block. She looked very pretty in her motley-green designer sari. Christmas celebrations were in full swing in the college and all the students were dressed in their best possible holiday attire. Surya stared at her and continued to do so, while she was walking towards him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">She approached him, gave him a light punch on his arm and asked, “Why did you want to meet me? You sounded very serious over the phone. Did you commit any crime? Do you want my legal advice?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">She chuckled, but was perplexed when Surya remained silent. She stopped smiling and grew concerned.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">“What happened?” she asked once again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Surya did not know what to say. He glanced at her once but quickly averted his eyes and finally settled his gaze upon a line of ants scurrying across the ground. They looked very busy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">A few moments passed before Surya spoke. “I have to tell you something” said he.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Tanvi was convinced by then that something was troubling Surya and so she did not make any attempt to prod him for information. She wanted him to talk to her rather than answer her questions.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">“I have not been completely honest with you. I have been acting like a good friend to you all this while. But the truth is very different.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">He looked at her once again and she was staring at him incredulously.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">“I… I… I have been in love with you ever since I saw you the first time. Yes… I fell in love with you and still am deeply in love with you. I know that this confession might come as a shock to you, but it is the truth. I adore you and please do not think of this as a passing fancy or infatuation. No… I am not infatuated with you, but I love you… I always have. I know that you despise such approaches and think that it is very immature to fall in love while in college. Yes, I am in college but I am 22 years old and can tell right from wrong. I feel right when I am with you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and promise to make you the happiest person if you would let me…”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Surya had stuttered a lot when he had begun but once love was mentioned, he had felt a knot ease from his chest. He still wanted to say more but could not find the words for it. All the while, he had kept his eyes on the ground and finally raised them to look at her. He wished he hadn’t.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Her eyes were blazing. She had listened to the discourse, first in disbelief which was soon replaced by anger and shock.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Surya took out a book from his backpack and opened it. He extended it to her. He was slightly unnerved by her angry looks but decided to see the whole thing through. Tanvi hesitated but finally snatched the book out of his hands. It was a diary. Across the flyleaf, it was written Tanvi, in bold letters.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">She opened it. It was like a log book and every meeting that Surya had with Tanvi was recorded. But it was a poetic log book. Against the mention of each meeting, Surya had written a poem. Some pages had pencil drawings of her face. Surya was not a great artist, but greatness was not essential to capture the beauty of Tanvi’s eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Tanvi did not lift her eyes from the book. She remained thoughtful as though in a trance for a long time. Finally she looked up at Surya. The awkwardness was unbearable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">“I hate you. I hate you not for loving me, but for pretending to be my friend all along. I have seen my share of suitors and I have rejected all of them because I know that they all had very immature, fanciful feelings. We have to be realistic in life. You seem to have watched a lot of movies and read a lot of romantic books, because the way you have written this diary is very childish and immature. You feel that my eyes are beautiful; you say that you will make me the happiest person; but let me ask you, What if I am not happy with you? In practical life, it is not possible to be happy all the time. Every relationship would have its ups and downs. People work at their relationships everyday to sustain it. All that requires emotional maturity and you do not have that. You are like a kid who still believes in Santa Claus. You shall not be my friend any longer. I mean, I will not consider you as my friend any longer. In reality, you were never my friend. You are a cheat who used friendship to get closer to me. I do not want to talk to you any further. We might run into each other in future, since we are in the same college. But I do not want you to approach me and try to talk to me. We are perfect strangers from now on.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">She threw the diary on the ground. Some of the ants were crushed under the book and their line was broken.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">She wheeled around and walked away without looking at Surya, even once.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="Georgia","serif"font-family:";">Surya stood rooted to the ground and a drop of tear rolled down his cheeks. He finally picked up the diary. He felt that he would never fall in love again. The ants had found a path around the diary by then and went about their work as usual.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">End</p>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-27879004383646434202010-08-31T14:52:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:46:12.453-07:00Love - Reloaded, Part 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TH18TX1VrJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vg6M29UjsUM/s1600/Gulmohar2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TH18TX1VrJI/AAAAAAAAAA4/vg6M29UjsUM/s320/Gulmohar2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511698191228447890" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“I see that you are reading a book”, said Surya rather sheepishly. “Great going, Einstein”, said he to himself.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Yes”.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">She smiled while she spoke.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Oh, her smile was like the shine of a thousand moons. It could illuminate the darkest corners and caves of the world. Her eyes twinkled with a bright sparkle when she smiled.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Surya wanted to say something that sounded intelligent and did justice to his near-perfect grades and his intellect. But he could not think properly. His heart was racing and he wanted to run away and keep on running till his feet bled.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Hi, I am Thushar”, chimed a voice behind him. Surya wheeled around to find Thushar standing by his side. Thushar offered his hand for a gentle handshake with Tanvi. She shook his hands and smiled at him.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Hi, I am Tanvi”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“I suppose you have joined the college recently because we have not seen you around here before”, said Thushar.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Yes, I am new here”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Surya could not help noticing that her voice was perfect too.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Which course are you attending here?” asked Thushar. He knew the answer already, as he was the one who played the patient listener while Surya had been going on and on about Tanvi, over the past one week. She replied and Thushar talked to her further while Surya looked on. He had regained a semblance of his confidence by then and joined in the conversation. Tanvi was talking with an ease and grace that commanded respect. Even Thushar had to admit that Tanvi was very charming.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The three of them, walked out of the canteen and set off towards the academic block. A gentle breeze was blowing. The branches of the Gulmohar trees swayed to the unheard ditties borne by the breeze. The afternoon sun, about to give way to twilight, reached out with its gentle rays as if to caress the earth before bidding goodbye. The walk was relatively deserted and the scene before them was so very serene that Thushar suggested that they sit down for a while.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">They sat down underneath a Gulmohar. Nobody spoke for some time. Surya had regained his composure and by then had begun to enjoy the company of Tanvi without any awkwardness. Thushar got up and made an excuse about having to work on an assignment and left.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he remains a dependable friend”, thought Surya with a smile.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The silence was broken only by the soft whistle of the wind. Tanvi seemed lost in thought and was looking at the red flowers littered on the grass. Surya watched her and wished that time would cease its journey at that moment. “If time stops now, I will never win her. But I will always be looking at her and be in her presence for ever. What greater joy can I hope for?” he thought.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Surya felt a welling of emotions within him and wanted to express it. So for the first time in his life, he created a poem in his mind. He did not know whether it was a poem or a mere arrangement of words to rhyme, but he felt happy when he recited it over and over again in his mind.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Love is the rose, that blossom in the heart</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">And spread the fragrance, that never depart”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Tanvi finally got up and Surya followed suit. They said a few parting words to each other and left. They had not spoken much since they sat down underneath the Gulmohar, but both felt that they had shared a lot. The rustling of the leaves and the whistle of the breeze had done the talking for them.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Surya rode his bike home happier than he had been in a long time. Tanvi, felt intrigued by this person with whom she had spoken next to nothing and yet shared much. The Gulmohar stood in the walk and seemed pleased at having given its shade to the bloom of a new love.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Many years have passed since that day Surya and Tanvi sat underneath that tree. If you visit the college, you will still find the Gulmohar standing in the walk covered with blood-red flowers gently swaying in the breeze. If you listen closely, you will hear numerous ballads of love, crooned into the wind by this Gulmohar tree. Even to this day, young people on the verge of falling in love sit under the tree and feel the symphony created by it. All one needs to feel that heavenly music is to keep an open mind.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Surya and Tanvi had not realized back then that they had embarked upon a journey that intertwined their lives. They met again the next day under the Gulmohar and the day after that and so on until it became a ritual. They would sit under the tree and chat for a while and then quietly listen to the murmur of Nature. Their friendship grew stronger.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Tanvi enjoyed Surya's company and Surya adored her. He was in love but did not profess his love to Tanvi. He took great care not to betray his feelings while he was with her. It was painful for him to hide his feelings thus and Thushar was angry with Surya when even after a year, Surya had not confessed his true feelings to Tanvi.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">"You are a chicken.", Thushar would say and with that would do a crude imitation of a chicken flapping around and it always infuriated Surya. He wanted to tell her everything but could not. He was happy to be around her and at the same time miserable.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style=" line-height: 115%; font-size:11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Finally things came to such a pass that Thushar could no longer take any more of it and threatened Surya that he would tell Tanvi the whole story unless he did it himself. Surya and Thushar were in the third year of their college lives and were already making plans for jobs to apply for and the life after college. The Christmas holidays were approaching and Thushar set a deadline for Surya to tell all to Tanvi.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;font-size:15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The final day of college before the holidays arrived.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;font-size:15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;font-size:15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">[To be Continued]</span></span></span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-81561210196992415662010-08-28T00:33:00.001-07:002010-09-17T21:46:31.959-07:00Love - Reloaded, Part 2<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Surya went to his classroom feeling downcast at having not being able to speak to the owner of those bewitching eyes. All throughout the lecture, all he could think of was about this girl. Her face loomed in his memory like an unfinished painting which was destined to be a masterpiece. His gloom was not lost upon Thushar, who at the end of the lecture asked, “What is bothering you, dumb head? You have been moody during the whole class”. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">“Nothing”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Thushar was not a person who admitted defeat at the mere sound of a war-horn. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">“There is something bothering you, of that I am certain. You could tell me the reason and get it off your mind or brood over it and be unhappy the whole day. It is your decision”, he quipped.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">By this time, Surya was so confused and chagrined that he needed no further invitation to blurt out the whole incident. Thushar was awfully quiet throughout the narrative and wore a very serious expression on his face once Surya finished his story.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">“This is nothing but silly infatuation”, declared Thushar. “It happens to everyone at this age. The prudent thing to do is to forget the whole thing including your wide-eyed beauty and concentrate on your studies.” He was brutally straight-forward and his thinly veiled sarcasm hurt Surya slightly. He nodded his head and kept quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><a name="_GoBack"></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">He did not meet the girl the whole day but not for the lack of effort on his part. He searched and looked around like a gazelle smelling danger, all day long. She was obviously a junior student who had joined the college recently and they had classes throughout the day. Surya longed for another meeting with her, but could not yet make up his mind as to what he would do in case he met her again. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">He thought about saying ‘Hello’ and introducing himself, but decided against it. Thushar’s words rang at the back of his head and Surya hated himself for not being able to counter the logic behind Thushar’s tirade. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">The college stood in a 15-acre campus and the academic block was the biggest building in it. Towering high at 5 stories and surrounded by manicured lawns, the academic block was an imposing structure. The library was the second largest building and was adjacent to the academic block on the eastern side. Surya and Thushar particularly liked the walk from the academic block to the canteen, since it resembled a boulevard. Gulmohar trees lined the walk and shed blood-red flowers onto the concrete path making it look like a red carpet under the soothing shade of the trees.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Surya, Thushar and a bunch of their classmates were sitting and chatting about a new movie one afternoon under one of these Gulmohar trees, when he met her for the second time. One week had passed since that fateful rainy morning and since then Surya had not stopped looking for her. Even though he had not been able to find her, he had described her fairly accurately to the junior boys in his hostel and had obtained her details. Her name was Tanvi. She was an Electronics engineering student and was staying in one of the new ladies’ hostels that had sprung up around the college campus. Surya had also made a few unsuccessful rounds on his bike in front of that hostel hoping to catch a glimpse of her. So it was with surprised elation that he watched her walk past him. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Surya nudged Thushar and pointed her out to him. He took one look and gave a derisive snort and continued to chat with the group. Surya was angry and swore at Thushar under his breath. He got up, made an excuse to go to the canteen and followed her. He could feel Thushar’s eyes burning holes at the back of his head and he knew better than to look back and confront that disapproving glance.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Surya had felt fairly confident when he was walking towards the canteen. But all that confidence oozed out of him, like sand in a sieve, when he entered the canteen and was replaced by wave of anxiety when he finally saw her in the canteen. There were ten rows of tables in the canteen, with an aisle in the middle. She had chosen the table closest to the serving counter. She had a book open in front of her and a glass of lemonade by the side of the book, from which she took sips intermittently, all the while having her eyes fixed on the pages of the book. He walked to the serving counter while trying his best not to cast a glance at her. He pretended to be suddenly interested in a sambar-stain on the canteen wall and tried to discern a pattern out of the stain. It seemed like the portrait of an emaciated man with a goatee.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Surya reached the serving counter and was at a loss. He was not hungry nor was he thirsty. The canteen-boy approached him with the usual disinterested expression as though he dared Surya to order anything. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">“One coke”, said Surya.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">While the canteen boy was going through an elaborate process to bring the bottle of coke, Surya cast a furtive glance at Tanvi. Her hair was perfect. Everything about her was perfect. She was the perfect girl with perfect, beautiful, round eyes. He longed to run his hands through her hair. But when he realized the turn of his thoughts, he was ashamed of himself. “Is my attraction to this girl merely a carnal infatuation?” wondered Surya.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">Suddenly Tanvi looked up from the book and caught Surya staring at her. Surya was embarrassed and quickly averted his glance and became interested in the sambar-stain once again. But he could see out of the corner of his eyes that she was studying him. He would have given away his most treasured earthly possession, his motorbike, to anyone who could tell him the expression on her face at that very moment.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"">The canteen boy banged the coke bottle on the counter and croaked, “Ten rupees”. Surya felt his hands quiver when he took his wallet out of his pockets. Was it a result of excitement or fear, he was not certain. He paid for the coke and turned to leave. She was looking at him still.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">Surya felt that he should speak. But he felt his throat dry up and he could hear his heart pound hard and if it could go any faster it would have found its way out of his rib cage. </span><div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><br /></span></div><div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:11.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">[To be continued]</span></div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-52739828041297730442010-08-26T01:17:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:46:46.714-07:00Love - Reloaded, Part 1<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">Is it possible to fall in love when you have once been stung and hurt once in a love gone bad?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">This is a question which Surya had pondered many times over. The answer always eluded him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">It all happened when he was into the second year of his engineering education. The first year was particularly good to him. He had scored high in almost all subjects. His parents, like other Indian parents, were all for rewarding good academic performance and so at the age of 19, Surya was a proud owner of a 100cc motorbike.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">Life seemed full of promise and he flitted through it like a bird in favorable wind. At times he would tarry and think about his life, but since nothing was amiss, he would dismiss such thoughts as quickly as they appeared. He did not know that all of it would change in a while.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">Surya had found a true comrade, in Thushar. They were classmates and had met during the interactions of senior students with juniors. Such interactions were fondly called as Personality Development Programs (PDP). Thushar was a matter-of-fact person who answered the seniors' questions boldly and he had to face a lot of heat. Surya realized that having such a person around would help him to pass unnoticed below the radar and draw away the attention of seniors and so he be-friended Thushar.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">The friendship which had its beginning under such dubious circumstances, flourished and before long, they were bosom friends.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">It was into this perfect little world of Surya, that she unknowingly stumbled in.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">He met her on a wet and chilly morning of August. Surya enjoyed riding his bike when it drizzled. He felt the small droplets of rain, falling from the sky with wanton freedom, finally settling on him, caressing and comforting him and as always it made him think of God. Even though he was brought up in a very conservative family, his thoughts about God and his spiritual inclination were very liberal. He refused to indulge in the idea of a God who punishes people who do not worship him and showers blessings on those who praise Him. Whenever his parents tried to make him pray by threatening him about the wrath of God, he pictured his high school headmaster stooping down with a cane in his hand. But, invariably whenever it rained, Surya felt an overwhelming sensation of loneliness. In those hours of solitude, he felt an inexplicable presence which made him happy and sad, all at once.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">Surya parked his bike and entered the academic block of his college. Students and teachers were walking in from all directions. She walked past him and she was dripping wet after running in the rain without an umbrella. She brushed her wet hair from her face and Surya was rooted to the ground. She looked around with a troubled expression on her face probably because her clothes were dripping water all over the floor and her books, which she hugged close to her body as if to protect them from some unspeakable evil, were also soggy from the rain. But Surya did not notice any of this. He was looking at her eyes. Here was an object upon which he could write poems upon poems and still not do justice to its beauty. Her hazel-brown eyes sparkled with a spirit that refused to be dampened even by the rain that had soaked her to her very skin. When her eyes met his, he felt that his soul had left him to embark upon a journey, never to return to him. It is uncertain whether she felt any such sensations because she gave him a quizzical look, as if to ask, "What are you looking at?" and hurried along to her classroom.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">Surya could not move from where he was standing for a while. He was trying hard to remember those eyes and imprint them in his memory. It was more like trying to remember an elusive tune of music; the moment you feel that you have found it, it slips past and plays hide-and-seek with you. Somebody went past him and said, "Hi Surya". He came out of his reverie and realized that the vague memory of those eyes would haunt him. His life had taken a different turn at that very moment.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;text-align: justify;line-height:15.75pt"><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; font-family:";font-size:11.5pt;color:#222222;">[To be continued]<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-67607500876854931952010-08-10T05:22:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:47:16.634-07:00I am Zango – Memoirs of a dog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TGFE284rrkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7KvmdMUYEO8/s1600/Battersea-dogs-home-Mr-Bi-001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sgXqyJMTGzg/TGFE284rrkI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7KvmdMUYEO8/s320/Battersea-dogs-home-Mr-Bi-001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503755930470952514" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I am Zango. I am the only dog in Institute of Management Technology who has not enrolled for PGDM course, but still get to stay in the campus. I have heard that it is customary among humans and pseudo-humans to greet each other by ‘introducing’ themselves. We, who belong to the great species called dogs, usually sniff and growl and acknowledge the presence of a fellow dog.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I am not one to go against conventional social gestures. So let me introduce myself. I was born somewhere in Ghaziabad. My life before settling down in IMT was one full of action. Even when I was a puppy, I was aggressive and knew what I wanted in life. I grew up in the market, fighting bigger, ferocious dogs to eat crumbs of food thrown out by the humans. Later on as I too became big, I was feared and respected and went on to control a gang. The gang of dogs under my control were all paw-picked by me to stand by my side and fight for our territory. I was undefeated in several fights and controlled a majority of the market. My gang was flourishing when along came a bigger dog than me, who intimidated my canine friends into feline submission and banished me to IMT for the rest of my life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">IMT – the hallowed halls of this institution had seen many budding managers walk the talk. The corridors of the hostels had seen many dogs like me too. I had walked in with trepidation and was pleasantly surprised to find the rest of the dogs welcoming me into their fold with open paws. They sniffed and puffed around me and one of them beckoned me to the back door of the mess, which was like being led to a promised land. The amount of food and the comforts accorded by the place was overwhelming for my eyes which had hitherto been accustomed to street fights.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I walked around the campus with my eyes widening with wonder to the point that it could not widen any further. The humans were cordial to me. Most of them did not pay any attention to me, but there were some who flicked their fingers at me. I wagged my tail the appropriate amount to make those knuckleheads feel superior and they fed me biscuits and bread. I growled to myself, “If there is a heaven on earth, it is here”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I spent two dog years in IMT (dog year also consists of 365 days, but the only difference from a human year is that, we celebrate new year at the start of our mating season, but that is a topic for another time). The first few days of my life were tough. I had to learn the ropes of the place. I realized that mess secretary and mess committee members are the most important people in the whole world. They held the power to stop your food supply. But it was easy to spot a mess committee member. They were invariably well-fed and had a look of contentment on their face, as though they were at peace with the world. I always stretched my paws and wagged my tail vigorously whenever those merchants of God walked by me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">But there were times, initially, when I was stumped by the behaviour of humans. There were two or three hostel blocks where males, even male dogs were not allowed to go into. The security guards waited outside these hostels with whistles in hands and shooed us away, if we came within a mile radius of these hostels. I realized that among humans, there existed a sub-species commonly referred to as girls or women or something of that sort. They were the protected species. Due to this blockade and sense of mystery surrounding them, I usually kept away from them. Therefore, I made the hostel adjacent to the mess, the B-block, my home. But I realized that the protected species, did not want to be protected after all. One night, after having my dinner, I went back with my friend, Bingo, to b-block to catch up on my beauty sleep and was surprised to find many girls or women or whatever they are called, in the b-block. I looked quizzically at Bingo, who growled in derision, “The security should be here where all the females are. Humans!!! I will be damned if I ever understand them”. He chased his tail for a while and settled down for his nap.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I fondly remember the times when the humans became very mellow and treated us like their kith and kin. Those occasions came along twice a year, during the Fresher’s party and the Farewell party. All the human folk, inhabiting the great land of IMT came together as one and there was no place for any differentiation of creed or sex or, as is my case, species. The SAC members would be making announcements into the PA system with their usual gusto and they would be present in their usual splendour and people would be singing their glory. Their tone, heard over the public-address system, would progress from being magnanimous to downright condescending, but I never blamed them. It is not in everyone’s bones to handle inebriation with equanimity. There were times when some guys tried to make me smoke a joint. I made it a point to politely refuse because we dogs, unlike humans, find it particularly difficult to simultaneously bite and suck the life out of anyone or anything.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Let me not bore my esteemed readers (I found out that sycophancy is an important tool in a human being’s life at IMT), with any further details of my stay at IMT. Without much further ado, let me take you all to the current whereabouts of my existence. I met a lady. A human lady, quite unlike the ones I was accustomed to, while living in IMT. She was very fair, and her tongue was far removed from the one that I heard from the brown ones. I would have to mention that, two years of life at IMT had made me look resplendent; my coat of fur had gained a remarkable lustre, my eyes had regained its fire and my body was toned. It was when I was in this prime condition that I met her. Our eyes locked across the concrete desert fondly called as the basket ball court. We both felt an immediate connection to one another. I ran up to her and wagged my tail and sniffed. She brushed aside the group of attention-seekers (humans) around her and started petting me. She cooed soothing words and spoke in a voice that sounded like chimes in a zephyr.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I was in love. It was not the love-of-convenience found in IMT, but the real deal. I mooned over her deep blue eyes and blonde hair. She was French (I had roamed around the class rooms where International Relations Committee-humans held their language classes. Now, I could discern French, Mandarin, German and Spanish from the other human tongues. Only English eluded me because so many different versions of it were present in IMT, like South Indian version, Mallu version, and Punjabi version and then there were people who considered themselves as the catch whiskers of English language...It was a melee). So when she whispered sweet nothings in French, to me it felt like my world was coming alive finally. She and I spent three months of her stay in IMT, almost always together. She took care of me the whole time and time went along in a fast-paced chariot. Finally, it was time for her to leave. I was devastated.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I followed her to the cab waiting to take her to the airport. My eyes and my tail drooped and I tugged at her legs while she was getting into the cab. An ill-concealed sob escaped her at that moment and she turned to look at me with pursed lips and a change came over her. Her face contorted as though she had come to a quick but inevitable decision and she opened one of her huge boxes, put me in it and taped it. She made an air-hole from outside, looked inside, put her finger to her lips and said, “Shh!!!” This was required because I was as quiet as a student in an IMT group discussion. In other words, I was howling myself hoarse. I finally got the drift and decided to keep quiet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">When you are in a box and have lots of time in your paws, you tend to reflect upon your life. It is during this reflection that you have stumbled across me. I am in the cab and probably making my way to France. I have heard of others going on exchange programs, but they return in three months time. I hope mine is a one-way ticket. I scratch my neck and lick my paws and settle down in the box. I am embarking upon a new journey; a journey that will take me far away from IMT. Will I miss the place? I do not know yet. But I am sure IMT will miss me, so much so that knuckleheads will write baseless stories about me and may be even poems. But that is me; I leave a huge impression behind...</p>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-59156755615661754382010-08-04T08:23:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:48:02.687-07:00Being a manager...<div style="text-align: justify;">My conscious and subconscious mind keep running into each other, much like children on a busy playground. I will tell you what has brought me into this state of reverie... I have had four lectures today and so I am slightly sleep-deprived, ever so slightly boggled by the volume of work to be done as assignments and mildly concussed after literally knocking my head against the wall. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The MBA world is a different place altogether. You enter and you feel a sudden chill and a premonition of impending danger. You take bold steps forward, because your honor is at stake. You have to live up to the expectations of people ranging from your parents, friends, girlfriends/boyfriends, neighbors, aunts and uncles and even the cab driver who brought you to the gates of the b-school and felt the need to charge you extra because you are going to be a manager someday. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So you take the plunge into this abyss where the din is deafening. India has got numerous b-schools and each and every one of them churn out numerous managers every year. By next year I will be one among those many managers. It is going to be a scramble to make my voice heard and to stand up and be counted in the crowd. But those are all things in the future. From where I am currently precariously placed, these problems look ages away.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My immediate concern is to present a case on Hitler tomorrow and to come up with a project for my Sales Management class by this weekend. According to my professor, there are lot of strategic lessons to be learned from Hitler's conquest and his ultimate failure. Sun Tzu's art of war is another book from which we have to gain insights. I think the message to be drawn is, 'Lock and load boys, we are going to war'.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is time to forget all good things, nice and dandy, in this world. Now, when I see a child happily eating ice-cream all I can think of is about the brand of the ice-cream and what positioning made the consumer (the kid) to buy the product. I have been successfully institutionalized. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have chosen my road. Sometimes, I muse about the road not taken. But I guess, it is a case of the grass being greener on the other side. Now I am expected to think and act like a manager. The time to tarry is long gone. Let me immerse myself in the life that I have chosen for myself and make the most of it. My Bar Mitzvah is over and it is time for me to take charge...</div>Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662677889273520172.post-79424527246995295342010-07-30T20:58:00.000-07:002010-09-17T21:48:23.717-07:00The climate!!!I am happy today. The weather here in Ghaziabad has become bearable. I know that, this is no reason to be overly ecstatic. But what has created this sense of jubilation in me, is the fact that the overcast skies and the slight drizzle took me on a trip down the memory lane.<br />I come from a place, named Kerala. It is a small (one of the smallest) state in India, but blessed with so much geographical diversity that one can find a beach resort in Cochin and travel for 2 hours and find a hill resort in Munnar. Mountains, valleys, lakes and beaches are all thrown in haphazardly into the melee` that is Kerala. It looks as though God was playing a jigsaw puzzle and did not bother to finish it.<br />Today, the cloudy, overcast weather and the intermittant rain here, reminded me of my school days. I used to cycle to school in the mornings and during the monsoon season used to brave similar kind of weather. The rain gods have their share of merriment in Kerala during monsoon. The sun might be shining early in the morning and the soothing rays of sun might alleviate a certain amount of fear gnawing your heart, but the rain gods have their own definition of fun. One might decide to cycle out without a rain-coat, since the skies are sunny and the birds are chirping and voila, there comes rain puring down and drenching you to your very skin. It is fun for the sole one week after the summer and then one might start cursing the unpredictable rain; I know I did.<br />Eventhough it has its faults, monsoon has its sunny side too. I remember dancing in the rain without a care in the world while my mother shook her fist at me and warned me to come into the house. "Dont make me come out there Sathyanarayanan", she used to say. She had the habit of using my full name whenever she wanted to make an angry point with me. She felt that she came across as a very ominous person, that way. Little did she know that, it invogorated me to put great efforts into whatever I was doing.<br />I remember running in the rain to the mango tree, which used to shed its juicy, ripe mangoes when the rain and wind hit it. It was always a race (Yes, at this point you should know that I have two elder sisters, who still takes the concept of sibling rivalry to a whole new level when it comes to the matter of mangoes). The first pick of the mangoes went to the person who reached the tree first. My first initiation to the FCFS algorithm came in this manner.<br /><br />The rain drops dripping from the leaves, the small puddles of water, the small grass blades sprouting from the earth grateful for the water, the cold yet calming zephyr bearing with it the scent of soil mixed with first rain, all makes me nostalgic. I want to go home where I belong and where I am loved and dance in the rain once again...Sathyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01198841520839268147noreply@blogger.com2