I, Me and Myself
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
moiThe Black Donnellys. My first assignment at work. A story about four Irish brothers who come to NewYork and try to be the good mobsters but end up in one mess after the other. A very well made series. It just sucked that I took eight bloody hours to spot just 43 minutes in the coldest room of the office on the hottest summer day in the city. Welcome to another typical First Day At Work!
After a back breaking eight hour long session on one chair and inabilty to reply to messages due to low currency I step out into the dark only to have fat droplets sting me. Brilliant. More mockery at my state.
A few steps ahead and I realize I have worn my favourite slippers ensuring every drop of muck is sprayed right back on my clothes. Furthermore, there are no autos to my resuce. Why would there be any!?One demanded Rs 80 while another demanded Rs. 60.
I walk all the way to Bangalore Central Mall in the hope of some respite from the rain. Common sense would ask me to wait in shelter till the rain wards off and then proceed looking for transportation home, but then why would I heed to common sense?
I stood in the rain, my nice stole bearing all the brunt. My new straightned and set hair getting all sticky and my new "all-open" bag, collecting the water! argghhhh! And to top it all, I don't have the money to pay these overbearing rick gods who are hustlers disgusied as saviours from the rain!Thirty minutes later the situation is no better after being refused by over 20 auto guys! The frusturation has reached its zennith! I take a deep breath and look around.
It's raining. Not the downpour, but a constatnt drizzle. It looks very pretty, illuminating all the street lights in its soft spray on the crowd rushing home. Suddenly I can't remember why I want to go home this early anyway. It's strange how I can change my mood to suit my needs. I smile and pull out my mp3 player. 'Smells like Teen Spirit' sounds a whole load different against cold puddles on your path. I sing along en route.... God alone knows where.
I stopped by Nilgiris on Brigade road. It always shuts at eight, suddenly the rules had changed to accomodate an additional hour. I smiled more and walked in and went to my favourite candy section. My grin broadened as I found packs and packs of packaged cotton candy in a super market for the first time in my life! Unable to contain my glee and luck, I picked one and ran out.
So there I was, nine pm on a Friday night. Strolling down an almost desterted Brigade road, hair, bag, clothes- all taking in the rain , munching away on cotton candy and listening to music while people fighting for shelter gave me positivley quizzical looks. And it did not help that my shirt said "Sarcasm is one of the services I offer!"
Happy Third Birthday "beingmoi".
for letting moi, be moi! :)
21 May 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
There are some songs in the world that you connect with, instantly. From the first note you are hooked. Three lines later, you are busy googling the lyrics. You find them and play the song the second time. This time the words are in front of you. You read and understand them. The third time you have stopped listening and started heeding to the warm feeling just below your heart that is clamoring for attention. You give in and feel. How every word makes so much sense. Almost like that the entire world conspired so that you could call that your song. The fourth time you are crying, uncontrollably, wishing that you didn’t have to relate this much to the song. You are thinking things you wished you didn’t have to think about. You stop the music, but it is too late. The words are embedded in your mind. You wake up next morning humming the tune unconsciously, smile and move on.
Few years later you hear the same song. You fail to recognize it at its first note. The mind has found newer tunes, etched newer connections. But the heart remembers. You smile and move on…humming the tune unconsciously.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
My eyes are dying to close,
As I die trying to keep them open.
Sleep tries to overtake me, I try to fight.
The heart is crumbling- each piece falling apart painfully;
I resist, trying to keep them glued with a sane mind.
Memories haunt, images flash, a cringe for the past;
I try and speed through them, avoiding its steady glare.
I ask a thousand questions, knowing each answer;
One a bitter truth after the other.
Yet I don't stop.
The wind ruffles the chime, each note lonesome of the other.
The routine repeats.
My eyes close, sleep has vanished.
A silent tear makes its ways through the dark;
Flows through the corner of an eye,slanting, into my mouth.
The salty taste is all the respite I can expect.
A defeated smile, I give up.
The heart can no longer hold.
The crumbling wakes me up from inside.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Saying tata is tough
I decided to clean out my desk one day before I left my office. It took me three bags to pile up all my stuff. Eight files, millions of press releases, three nice untouched books, ten pens from conferences, photographs, my note books, a calender from the previous year, my contact cards, my mp3 player, a couple of good magazines, my CIEFL prospectus. I was surprised at the amount of stuff I had stashed away here. On my (french)window I found twenty post-its. Many holding phone numbers and some that reminded me I had four stories pending and owed someone at work about 100 bucks. Like it was going to matter anyway! I slowly slipped them away, could not throw them. Nobody was at work that day. Nobody. Nobody was even aware I was leaving the next day. I am used to being alone, a lot. I used to feel very alone when people at my work used to leave. After two good friends left work the same week, my editor called me outside and asked me if I was okay. I brushed him aside. Of course I was okay! I am here to work, I am professional enough. That was seven months ago, eleven people left after that. Thirteen for the nine months I was there. One after the other. A new person would come, sit next to me. It would take about ten days to break the ice and to teach them how the "office" worked. By the time you are expecting to go out for lunch with them the next day, they are gone that evening.
I needed more than a confidence boost to stick around and thanks to Godspeeder, I found some. I wondered how he manages. He has been there for three years- seen about close to thirty or forty people come and leave. Like a railway platform. He says he's not emotional and that keeps him at the job. A kind of professionalism, I suppose. I could never be professional enough. I could not help but get attached to these few people left with whom I spent twelve hours of my life everyday, even if it was only for a few months. I was in love with my space, my chair, my headphones and my view. That was all I needed.
The next day I would come to work, sit at my desk. Look around at the deserted venue, put on my headphones and get to work. Professional. Then new people joined and new people left, leaving behind a new contact on my msn messenger...
***
I cleaned my desktop and kissed my slow but loyal comp of nine months goodbye. I left the blinds open. They were not there when I joined and my view was awesome. It overlooked a bachelor's pad and unfortunatley or fortunately nobody came out! I hung a bookmark for Gsp and laughed at that "smart" calender he had on his desk- a proverb everyday. I picked up three very very heavy bags and headed down. They had shut the elevator. With summer on and no rains, they were probably trying to save electricity. I walked down the stairs, 67 of them littered with cigarette buds, thanks to our office boys! It is strange when you know you are seeing things for the last time. You notice all the details.There was no farewell party, no goodbyes and good luck in whatever you do. I stepped out of the office and looked up. Said a small bye, I can get very emotional while leaving things or places. The fabmall, the pizza hut and the kitchen beyond that served the oiliest yet best aloo paranthas in the world. I looked left and it showed my ex-company's name on the big bright board. Suddenly, drops of water fell on my unsuspecting forehead. I squealed in glee as it changed tempo and became more fierce. I ran in and dumped my stuff and made an entry to what I would define as the best rainfall in many many years. The wind howled, the trees shook, the power went, my head hurt as the drops started getting very strong. People started gathering at the entrance of my office to take refuge from this downpour while I let it soak me, drench me, cleanse me. There was never a better first summer rain and there was no better goodbye.
Seen in pic: my desk and my view and my foul weather friends at work!
wHaT yOu ArE rEaDiNg HeRe
About Moi!
aT tHe mOmEnT
sO yEsTeRdAy
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the original duck-walker :)
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since may 23,2007
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