Was totally and absolutely in a dilemma.. I had got an offer from IIMB for an Executive MBA Program, and at the same time, a new and hyped up role in a new company (more on that later). And they were both the stuff, my pipe-dreams are made of. But clashed and collided in a multitude of ways and dates, and all of those horrible things that were giving me nightmares.
I was on the verge of walking away (heavy heart and sniffling) from the IIMB program, thinking I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Maybe the time wasn’t right, maybe I was better off with prioritizing only the job, etc etc.
Then spoke at length to P. and P. last night, and smsed back and forth with K., who all talked me into fighting and thinking it out, and finally saying YES to the IIMB. They think, and thus, now I think, I will be able to juggle both.
A huge, HUGE hug to P. and P. and K. for the motivation..
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
AAAAAAARGH!!!
Frustration to the hilt. The CFO is out of town on work, my financial induction happens on Tuesday, and till then…. zilch (how long CAN one Google, man!!)
Which means, I’m sitting here.. I can’t network (Facebook, LinkedIn, et al), I can’t chat (no Skype, GTalk, MSN, yada yada), I can’t mail (MindTree's Internet Access Policy does not allow access to this site as it has been categorized as "Web-based E-mail"), AND I can’t view most sites (MindTree's Internet Access Policy does not allow access to this site as it has been categorized as "Entertainment").
Of Course I Want Entertainment!!
Anyone would want entertainment if they had to sit hour after hour looking at a wall, with no one around. Innumerable cups of coffee, multiple phone calls, angst about IIM or not alongside new job and all that, notwithstanding. Specially when I ‘m used to, and almost thrive on, frentic activity.
P.S.: Sigh!! I think I’m having hysterics. The next week I hope, brings better things to come..
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Just another day in paradise..
Sitting here, in my new office, on my first day – no laptop assigned to me yet, no access card, no desk – in short, no nothing. Met some of my “team to be”...have a team lunch thing as well, in a while, to meet the rest of them all.
“And in the dangling conversation.. and the superficial smiles”
Paul Simon knew what he was talking about, for sure. Though, in all fairness I must admit that this is expected. In all offices, the first few days, for the new employees are generally stilted, and fraught with tension.
“Will I fit in?” “Will they like me?” “I hope I’m doing the right thing” “I wonder whose head I stepped on, to bag this job – unfortunate, but bound to be true”.. and so forth.
I was experiencing deja-vu actually.. laughing at myself, as I was walking down the different cubes, introducing myself to different people. How often in the last 5 years, in my previous company, have I seen people going around doing the same, and then smiled politely and forgotten him/her in an instant as soon as they passed?
I’m currently placed outside the team facility - remember, no access card? – and its all quiet.. so very quiet. Each time the door opens, I hear snatches of conversation and laughter, till the door closes again, and I’m left with good ole me. It's a lonely feeling.
A wave of nostalgia hits me, a veritable tsunami. Nostalgia for my old office, where I was a “dada”, untouchable, un-putdown-able. Walking around hands in pockets, whistling any tune that came to my mind, me knowing everyone, and everyone knowing me. I know I got away with a lot of stuff that others couldn’t dream of saying or doing.. simply because of the bonds I had forged over time.
I’m remembering the times in the cafeteria, drinking innumerable cups of coffee, the wind in our hair, the papad flying across, end to end. Friends telling me, patiently "Sri, coffee khatam kar" as I would get engrossed in conversation, and the coffee would grow ice cold in the cup. I miss the Dumb Charades with F. and S. guessing phrases no other person could think of.
“I tot I taw a puddy tat a teeping up on me”
Shouting out loudly in laughter with friends.. as R. would put it “gir gir ke haasna” .. all the others would turn to look at us and grin at our craziness. My heart to heart talks with S., the quiet one of our group, who I always look to for confirmation on things that matter. And beating M. with a shoe, when he bugged me too much.. which was really very often.. on the Delhi Calcutta divide.
Maybe that will happen here.. maybe not. Only time will tell. Till then, I’l maintain a casual pose, stick one hand in my pocket and cross my fingers.
“And in the dangling conversation.. and the superficial smiles”
Paul Simon knew what he was talking about, for sure. Though, in all fairness I must admit that this is expected. In all offices, the first few days, for the new employees are generally stilted, and fraught with tension.
“Will I fit in?” “Will they like me?” “I hope I’m doing the right thing” “I wonder whose head I stepped on, to bag this job – unfortunate, but bound to be true”.. and so forth.
I was experiencing deja-vu actually.. laughing at myself, as I was walking down the different cubes, introducing myself to different people. How often in the last 5 years, in my previous company, have I seen people going around doing the same, and then smiled politely and forgotten him/her in an instant as soon as they passed?
I’m currently placed outside the team facility - remember, no access card? – and its all quiet.. so very quiet. Each time the door opens, I hear snatches of conversation and laughter, till the door closes again, and I’m left with good ole me. It's a lonely feeling.
A wave of nostalgia hits me, a veritable tsunami. Nostalgia for my old office, where I was a “dada”, untouchable, un-putdown-able. Walking around hands in pockets, whistling any tune that came to my mind, me knowing everyone, and everyone knowing me. I know I got away with a lot of stuff that others couldn’t dream of saying or doing.. simply because of the bonds I had forged over time.
I’m remembering the times in the cafeteria, drinking innumerable cups of coffee, the wind in our hair, the papad flying across, end to end. Friends telling me, patiently "Sri, coffee khatam kar" as I would get engrossed in conversation, and the coffee would grow ice cold in the cup. I miss the Dumb Charades with F. and S. guessing phrases no other person could think of.
“I tot I taw a puddy tat a teeping up on me”
Shouting out loudly in laughter with friends.. as R. would put it “gir gir ke haasna” .. all the others would turn to look at us and grin at our craziness. My heart to heart talks with S., the quiet one of our group, who I always look to for confirmation on things that matter. And beating M. with a shoe, when he bugged me too much.. which was really very often.. on the Delhi Calcutta divide.
Maybe that will happen here.. maybe not. Only time will tell. Till then, I’l maintain a casual pose, stick one hand in my pocket and cross my fingers.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Trip Down Memory Lane
What DOES one feel, at the threshold of resigning from a job?
A job where I have been at, over the last 4.5 years.. a job that I’ve been with, since the inception of the company. When we first came together, we were a band of 8 enthusiastic, upbeat souls.. ready to face any challenge that was thrown at us. Our bosses were 2 young guys, “fresh” out of Wall Street and other big names across EU and US.. but totally green behind the ears when it came to running an organization.
We were all recruited out of pubs and coffee shops, guzzling beer over papers and handshakes (Siraj never let me live it down, as a matter of fact). As soon as we came onboard, Anu and I were chosen to choose colors, designs, hardware, software, et al, at different moments. Off we would trot, with the CEO’s money (even in those days, one had to REALLY work to persuade him to part with it, even for the greater good) to buy furniture and various decorative bits and pieces, for our office “relaxing zone”. The fact that the Zone was bang in front of our bosses’ glass walled cabin, escaped our notice till the n-eth moment.
The first day I walked into the office, I was met by a cigarette puffing guy, salt and pepper hair, wearing these brightly colored Bermudas; I realized later, that he was the President. Ushering us very nicely into his cabin, to discuss a project, he wound up, telling the team “this presentation needs to be orgasmic”. Needless to say, for the other team members, all good little Southie ones; they simply preferred to have a collective coronary instead.
It was a good thing that we were ready to take on the world…for the universe, it seemed at times, was thrown at us. Amit and Siraj were hard taskmasters.. they even had a dictum “3 strikes and you’re out”. Each of us would shiver and shake in our shoes, every time Amit had to review our presentations. He could make us feel very small indeed, with his “Ye KYA hai, yaar? This is BULLSHIT!” drawl. Siraj was known to reduce people to tears, with cutting remarks “Is this the BEST you can do? I mean, if you can’t, tell me… I can do it myself.”
Looking back, and specially looking around the current recruits swarming the organization, it was the best training that one could ever receive. We were learning every moment of the way.. the domain knowledge, the ability to analyze, the importance of key takeaways and titles that made sense. What the clients wanted to hear, and not necessarily what we wanted to blather about, on and on. How very important it was to have “Quality, and Pristine Look and Feel” almost as part of the air we breathed.
But more importantly, we learnt about how not to give up, how to look adversity in the eye; how to come crashing down, and then dust ourselves off, and perform even better. A few of us faced challenge after challenge.. and swore that we would always come out of it, smiling and victorious. I realize, with rather with an element of shocked surprise, that I have a whole lot to be grateful for.
Not always in the best of ways; but these guys pushed me to new limits, challenged my creativity, defined new roles when I least expected them. And in the process, helped me become a far better professional today, than I was 5 years ago; with an entire new and varied skill set range, and an ability to adapt to any new situation without batting an eyelid.
And for all that, and so much more, Amit and Siraj, I truly truly thank you…
A job where I have been at, over the last 4.5 years.. a job that I’ve been with, since the inception of the company. When we first came together, we were a band of 8 enthusiastic, upbeat souls.. ready to face any challenge that was thrown at us. Our bosses were 2 young guys, “fresh” out of Wall Street and other big names across EU and US.. but totally green behind the ears when it came to running an organization.
We were all recruited out of pubs and coffee shops, guzzling beer over papers and handshakes (Siraj never let me live it down, as a matter of fact). As soon as we came onboard, Anu and I were chosen to choose colors, designs, hardware, software, et al, at different moments. Off we would trot, with the CEO’s money (even in those days, one had to REALLY work to persuade him to part with it, even for the greater good) to buy furniture and various decorative bits and pieces, for our office “relaxing zone”. The fact that the Zone was bang in front of our bosses’ glass walled cabin, escaped our notice till the n-eth moment.
The first day I walked into the office, I was met by a cigarette puffing guy, salt and pepper hair, wearing these brightly colored Bermudas; I realized later, that he was the President. Ushering us very nicely into his cabin, to discuss a project, he wound up, telling the team “this presentation needs to be orgasmic”. Needless to say, for the other team members, all good little Southie ones; they simply preferred to have a collective coronary instead.
It was a good thing that we were ready to take on the world…for the universe, it seemed at times, was thrown at us. Amit and Siraj were hard taskmasters.. they even had a dictum “3 strikes and you’re out”. Each of us would shiver and shake in our shoes, every time Amit had to review our presentations. He could make us feel very small indeed, with his “Ye KYA hai, yaar? This is BULLSHIT!” drawl. Siraj was known to reduce people to tears, with cutting remarks “Is this the BEST you can do? I mean, if you can’t, tell me… I can do it myself.”
Looking back, and specially looking around the current recruits swarming the organization, it was the best training that one could ever receive. We were learning every moment of the way.. the domain knowledge, the ability to analyze, the importance of key takeaways and titles that made sense. What the clients wanted to hear, and not necessarily what we wanted to blather about, on and on. How very important it was to have “Quality, and Pristine Look and Feel” almost as part of the air we breathed.
But more importantly, we learnt about how not to give up, how to look adversity in the eye; how to come crashing down, and then dust ourselves off, and perform even better. A few of us faced challenge after challenge.. and swore that we would always come out of it, smiling and victorious. I realize, with rather with an element of shocked surprise, that I have a whole lot to be grateful for.
Not always in the best of ways; but these guys pushed me to new limits, challenged my creativity, defined new roles when I least expected them. And in the process, helped me become a far better professional today, than I was 5 years ago; with an entire new and varied skill set range, and an ability to adapt to any new situation without batting an eyelid.
And for all that, and so much more, Amit and Siraj, I truly truly thank you…
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The Bong Connection…or, As You Like It
The last weekend, was one that reminded me forcibly, of my Bong-ness. Not that I’m ashamed of it… but neither do I wave my Marxist red state - Tagore spouting inheritance like a flag. It is just another thing that is an integral part of me, so much so, that I don’t really bother about it.
Alliance Francaise had put up a play over the weekend. All we knew about it was that it was on Shakespeare. Titled “Shreds and Patches”, we weren’t quite sure what it would be about, but priding ourselves on being adult discerning population, who like assimilating new experiences, we were eager to see it.
Turned out to be a one man show about “MY Shakespeare”..or rather, the actor’s own interpretation. The Actor.. I don’t know his name.. it wasn’t mentioned anywhere on the programme. All I can say is that he reminded he forcibly of a dear “brother figure” Babuda.. from the shadows of my past… and that I’m going to call this guys A. for ease of use.
When A. opened his book and talked about his first brush with Shakespeare, I was stifling my snorts. He was a Bong, of course.. only a Bong would get “The Complete Unabridged Works of Shakespeare” as a birthday gift. I should know… I have the very same book at home, sepia toned paged made brown by a child’s dirty thumbprints flipping through it. I love reading – anything I found was grist to my mill. By the time I had hit my teenage years, I had gone through the entire book.. don’t ask me what I understood though.
The play drew interesting parallels with today’s day and age, and characters and speeches of the famous literary guru. It rambled, turned on its own head, soliloquized. My friends who went with me…hated it.
So then, why on earth did I like it so?
Because it reminded me of my school days.. when we would have two-period-long Eng Lit class, with Sumita Mashi (also my English teacher right through middle school) vainly trying to explain Kubla Khan, Xanadu, Macbeth and As You Like It.
I remembered a summer afternoon, just after lunch break. We 9 friends had stuffed our faces with all the garbage we could find in the canteen. It was Eng Lit class; a one-and-a-half-hour long phenomenon where we would strive to read (AND comprehend) Shakespeare. Undoubtedly, we were giving in, without much ado, to slumber that was calling to us.
Suddenly, we were jerked back to awareness, from full fathoms five. A deep voice was emanating from the speakers..Sumita Mashi had gotten the tape of the play of Julius Caesar, and was making us listen and “feel” the words. The whole class sat and drooled over Mark Anthony’s voice… “Friends, Roman, Countrymen…lend me your ears”.
Shakespeare colored a large part of my growing up years. He took shape in our parodies in the Teacher’s Day plays, he controlled us in the form of verses learnt – for fun… “I know more than YOU do” (in retrospect, I can only say that we were all mad as hatters).He appeared like Macbeth’s Ghosts, in my dreams, before my ICSE.
Strangest things have ways of reminding us of loved ones and memories of wonderful times…
Alliance Francaise had put up a play over the weekend. All we knew about it was that it was on Shakespeare. Titled “Shreds and Patches”, we weren’t quite sure what it would be about, but priding ourselves on being adult discerning population, who like assimilating new experiences, we were eager to see it.
Turned out to be a one man show about “MY Shakespeare”..or rather, the actor’s own interpretation. The Actor.. I don’t know his name.. it wasn’t mentioned anywhere on the programme. All I can say is that he reminded he forcibly of a dear “brother figure” Babuda.. from the shadows of my past… and that I’m going to call this guys A. for ease of use.
When A. opened his book and talked about his first brush with Shakespeare, I was stifling my snorts. He was a Bong, of course.. only a Bong would get “The Complete Unabridged Works of Shakespeare” as a birthday gift. I should know… I have the very same book at home, sepia toned paged made brown by a child’s dirty thumbprints flipping through it. I love reading – anything I found was grist to my mill. By the time I had hit my teenage years, I had gone through the entire book.. don’t ask me what I understood though.
The play drew interesting parallels with today’s day and age, and characters and speeches of the famous literary guru. It rambled, turned on its own head, soliloquized. My friends who went with me…hated it.
So then, why on earth did I like it so?
Because it reminded me of my school days.. when we would have two-period-long Eng Lit class, with Sumita Mashi (also my English teacher right through middle school) vainly trying to explain Kubla Khan, Xanadu, Macbeth and As You Like It.
I remembered a summer afternoon, just after lunch break. We 9 friends had stuffed our faces with all the garbage we could find in the canteen. It was Eng Lit class; a one-and-a-half-hour long phenomenon where we would strive to read (AND comprehend) Shakespeare. Undoubtedly, we were giving in, without much ado, to slumber that was calling to us.
Suddenly, we were jerked back to awareness, from full fathoms five. A deep voice was emanating from the speakers..Sumita Mashi had gotten the tape of the play of Julius Caesar, and was making us listen and “feel” the words. The whole class sat and drooled over Mark Anthony’s voice… “Friends, Roman, Countrymen…lend me your ears”.
Shakespeare colored a large part of my growing up years. He took shape in our parodies in the Teacher’s Day plays, he controlled us in the form of verses learnt – for fun… “I know more than YOU do” (in retrospect, I can only say that we were all mad as hatters).He appeared like Macbeth’s Ghosts, in my dreams, before my ICSE.
Strangest things have ways of reminding us of loved ones and memories of wonderful times…
Friday, April 25, 2008
Part VI...herendethelesson...
Oh, I feel SO much better!! I think multiple factors have contributed to the positive emotions…
Writing about it. To be able to vent it all out on paper was cathartic in a way that is inexplicable to a person who doesn’t use written communication the way writers do. Can I call myself a writer? I blog, at least… I agree I have a vast way to go before “author”. Anyways, with the jotting down of thoughts, I was able to untangle the veins; and, in a way, play therapist to myself.
Speaking to people, either intimately connected to the whole incident; or to other friends, to get a feedback on thoughts and generally to bounce ideas off them. In a way, the latter were a tangible living breathing extension to my writing. The difference; here, I was not venting, I was using them to probe deeper into my own psyche.
Spoke to S… the one person in the group I thought I could speak with. It isn’t that the others didn’t want to listen, but that I didn’t know what to tell them. They are all very intelligent, but S. has a huge amount of empathy, that made him the perfect choice. The other 3 make a joke out of everything.. even did that with my depressive frame of mind. Left me quite speechless, really!
It was difficult to start; frankly, I was petrified. I didn’t want to think of a scenario where he would all walk away, after hearing my POV, but I think I had to take that chance. And once I did, it became easier and easier, to get my words out, to connect the dots in my brain to make squiggly shapes and straight lines. Slept well, nightmare free, after ages…the night I spoke my heart out to him. Now, he has to give me his thoughts, since I have asked him for it…don’t know when that will be, though.
Finally, a mental peace with myself, a lack of guilt about who I am, and what I want from life. A sudden spurt of maturity brought on by sadness and soul searching, to take a long good hard look at myself. Some things I liked, some things I gasped at. And I realize that is it okay for people to move in different directions; and that helps me see them in a “less judging” light, too.
Older, wiser..hopefully better!!
P.S. ..people who read Asterix will "get" the title of this blog..others, i suggest you start ASAP.
Writing about it. To be able to vent it all out on paper was cathartic in a way that is inexplicable to a person who doesn’t use written communication the way writers do. Can I call myself a writer? I blog, at least… I agree I have a vast way to go before “author”. Anyways, with the jotting down of thoughts, I was able to untangle the veins; and, in a way, play therapist to myself.
Speaking to people, either intimately connected to the whole incident; or to other friends, to get a feedback on thoughts and generally to bounce ideas off them. In a way, the latter were a tangible living breathing extension to my writing. The difference; here, I was not venting, I was using them to probe deeper into my own psyche.
Spoke to S… the one person in the group I thought I could speak with. It isn’t that the others didn’t want to listen, but that I didn’t know what to tell them. They are all very intelligent, but S. has a huge amount of empathy, that made him the perfect choice. The other 3 make a joke out of everything.. even did that with my depressive frame of mind. Left me quite speechless, really!
It was difficult to start; frankly, I was petrified. I didn’t want to think of a scenario where he would all walk away, after hearing my POV, but I think I had to take that chance. And once I did, it became easier and easier, to get my words out, to connect the dots in my brain to make squiggly shapes and straight lines. Slept well, nightmare free, after ages…the night I spoke my heart out to him. Now, he has to give me his thoughts, since I have asked him for it…don’t know when that will be, though.
Finally, a mental peace with myself, a lack of guilt about who I am, and what I want from life. A sudden spurt of maturity brought on by sadness and soul searching, to take a long good hard look at myself. Some things I liked, some things I gasped at. And I realize that is it okay for people to move in different directions; and that helps me see them in a “less judging” light, too.
Older, wiser..hopefully better!!
P.S. ..people who read Asterix will "get" the title of this blog..others, i suggest you start ASAP.
Part V
the wonders of ADDA...
So, after much soul searching and self-same pop psychoanalysis (yes, my education and 5 years of learning Psychology FINALLY comes of use :-D) I realized that what I was missing was intelligent conversation. We are all great at small talk, I’m sure; but I needed that thread of mental stimulation running through all the mundane things we are often so wrapped up in.
The Bongs have coined a term for it, as they have done, inevitably, with lots of other stuff.. it’s called ADDA.. or the “fine art of socializing and relaxed conversation”. Being natural talkers, we talk of everything under the sun; meandering through idle gossip, sports, food (a Bengali’s national pastime), international and local politics and cultural affairs. And the tone varies from discussion to debate to outrage and back again. They are usually accompanied with “chaa and shingara (tea and samosa)” or whatever snacks are available.
The whole concept is, I think, one of the most refreshing things, of all times. And that was what I was missing – the sheer dynamics of conversation, the crackle and sparkle of verbal communication. All we were talking of, within our group was a teasing that had gotten boring since it was unaccompanied by anything. And that got to me; here we were 5 intelligent beings, who, when together, had none to contribute except hysterical laughter at zilch. It made no sense at all. And it threw me into depression, as these 4 are people I’m extremely fond of.
Well, to cut a REALLY long story short, I backed off a little bit, to give myself and them, some room; then decided to get together with other friends as well, such that I have a range of communication with a range of people. And it works. I had a long adda this morning about random stuff like rock music, drug addiction and religion. Thus, by the time our group convened, I was in a happy mood. And that has continued through the day.
Fingers crossed!!
So, after much soul searching and self-same pop psychoanalysis (yes, my education and 5 years of learning Psychology FINALLY comes of use :-D) I realized that what I was missing was intelligent conversation. We are all great at small talk, I’m sure; but I needed that thread of mental stimulation running through all the mundane things we are often so wrapped up in.
The Bongs have coined a term for it, as they have done, inevitably, with lots of other stuff.. it’s called ADDA.. or the “fine art of socializing and relaxed conversation”. Being natural talkers, we talk of everything under the sun; meandering through idle gossip, sports, food (a Bengali’s national pastime), international and local politics and cultural affairs. And the tone varies from discussion to debate to outrage and back again. They are usually accompanied with “chaa and shingara (tea and samosa)” or whatever snacks are available.
The whole concept is, I think, one of the most refreshing things, of all times. And that was what I was missing – the sheer dynamics of conversation, the crackle and sparkle of verbal communication. All we were talking of, within our group was a teasing that had gotten boring since it was unaccompanied by anything. And that got to me; here we were 5 intelligent beings, who, when together, had none to contribute except hysterical laughter at zilch. It made no sense at all. And it threw me into depression, as these 4 are people I’m extremely fond of.
Well, to cut a REALLY long story short, I backed off a little bit, to give myself and them, some room; then decided to get together with other friends as well, such that I have a range of communication with a range of people. And it works. I had a long adda this morning about random stuff like rock music, drug addiction and religion. Thus, by the time our group convened, I was in a happy mood. And that has continued through the day.
Fingers crossed!!
Part IV
yes, the parts dont match since im not putting all my "basket-case dairies" online...that would be just too wierd :-D
Had a long chat with F. today, as we were walking to the bank and back. While in the beginning I didn’t know her all that well, I find a lot of similarities surfacing, as time goes by. Love for dogs, reading, same kind of music are certain threads of commonality.
Of course, the rest of the gang think “paka raha hai” when/if either of us start on our conversations about either…or about something that interests. I don’t understand…how can a group be so thrilled/proud of NOT amassing knowledge, of discussing something new?
Anyways, back to the chat.. we both decided to amass our feelings of dissatisfaction (about anything, really) in a positive manner. So, now plan get off my butt, and do what makes me truly happy; be it writing, painting, listening to jazz over a bit of wine and cheese, learning a new language, re-learning Math (that was one subject I loved once upon a time, far far away), pottering around with clay, or going for meandering trips in a dinky lil car (yes, I’m planning to buy one, and currently, cash strapped, its going to be very dinky indeed :-D)
Essentially, it’s all about me finally growing up to realize that life isn’t about sitting and thinking of all that I want to do, but going out and doing them.
Olé!!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Crash and Burn!!
Part I (yes, an ongoing saga about me going mental)
What does one do, when the foundation of a relationship gets rocked? Are we expected to take a good long hard look at ourselves, at our surroundings, at our friends, and make the perfect sound judgments? And are we asked to walk away unscathed?
It was a horrible feeling – in the middle of my nice, normal, perfectly peaceful day – to suddenly wake up and realize that the interactions with friends at work, and beyond; those I consider my emotional support; were suddenly leaving me hollow. So, over the next few days, I was sinking into a pit of acute depression, feeling irritated one moment and guilty the next, not wanting to face the fact that people I loved, I was beginning to almost run away from. Believe it or not, I spent an evening in a pub, COMPLETELY silent. And to those who know me, that they will agree, is a about face of my general persona, if there was one.
These poor people didn’t know what had hit them; they kept asking me for explanations of my behavior. What would I tell them.. that I myself didn’t know what had hit me too? That I couldn’t find any rational reasoning for my blues? I must say, they have been quite ok, about putting up with my volatile behavior.
Im hoping I will find a solution, as soon as possible...dont want to remain a basket case for too long. And as I do, this post in going to take on a mirror/couch role...
What does one do, when the foundation of a relationship gets rocked? Are we expected to take a good long hard look at ourselves, at our surroundings, at our friends, and make the perfect sound judgments? And are we asked to walk away unscathed?
It was a horrible feeling – in the middle of my nice, normal, perfectly peaceful day – to suddenly wake up and realize that the interactions with friends at work, and beyond; those I consider my emotional support; were suddenly leaving me hollow. So, over the next few days, I was sinking into a pit of acute depression, feeling irritated one moment and guilty the next, not wanting to face the fact that people I loved, I was beginning to almost run away from. Believe it or not, I spent an evening in a pub, COMPLETELY silent. And to those who know me, that they will agree, is a about face of my general persona, if there was one.
These poor people didn’t know what had hit them; they kept asking me for explanations of my behavior. What would I tell them.. that I myself didn’t know what had hit me too? That I couldn’t find any rational reasoning for my blues? I must say, they have been quite ok, about putting up with my volatile behavior.
Im hoping I will find a solution, as soon as possible...dont want to remain a basket case for too long. And as I do, this post in going to take on a mirror/couch role...
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Watched two Hindi movies in 4 days….that too, in the hall, not at home…
That’s an amazing thing for me, given that usually I have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to see a movie…specially Hindi flicks…
1…2…3….Go, Going, Gone
The first one was 123…. It was, without doubt, the most traumatic experience ever… a horrible, atrocious movie…without a plot, without any sense, without any acting. The music sucked, and the girls wore hankies for want of a budget.. and danced - really badly - around their heroes. I sat through the first half of the movie cursing my friends loudly, and threatening to strangle them; and as soon as the intermission came, we looked at each other, and made the speediest exit ever, known to man..
Fast paced action
The second was a refreshing experience…. Race, which all my pals were raving about. So, three of us went to catch a night show yesterday, starting the whole thing off with a kebab and long island iced tea laced dinner.. a slight buzz, very pleasant and useful too, in case the movie turned out to be a bummer.
But we did have a pleasant surprise… Saif was eminently watchable – drool worthy, really; the dialogues smooth at times, and full of innuendo at others; Anil Kapoor reinvents himself with every role, the plot fast and slick, with just the right twists at the right places. The only deterrents were the item numbers, and the item girls (read heroines) who had no role, and even less acting ability. But, all in all, good time-pass, as the Bangaloreans call it…
That’s an amazing thing for me, given that usually I have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to see a movie…specially Hindi flicks…
1…2…3….Go, Going, Gone
The first one was 123…. It was, without doubt, the most traumatic experience ever… a horrible, atrocious movie…without a plot, without any sense, without any acting. The music sucked, and the girls wore hankies for want of a budget.. and danced - really badly - around their heroes. I sat through the first half of the movie cursing my friends loudly, and threatening to strangle them; and as soon as the intermission came, we looked at each other, and made the speediest exit ever, known to man..
Fast paced action
The second was a refreshing experience…. Race, which all my pals were raving about. So, three of us went to catch a night show yesterday, starting the whole thing off with a kebab and long island iced tea laced dinner.. a slight buzz, very pleasant and useful too, in case the movie turned out to be a bummer.
But we did have a pleasant surprise… Saif was eminently watchable – drool worthy, really; the dialogues smooth at times, and full of innuendo at others; Anil Kapoor reinvents himself with every role, the plot fast and slick, with just the right twists at the right places. The only deterrents were the item numbers, and the item girls (read heroines) who had no role, and even less acting ability. But, all in all, good time-pass, as the Bangaloreans call it…
Friday, March 28, 2008
Ruffling Our Feathers..
Bangalore is beautiful… the weather, that is. The city, I can’t say the same about, much to my dismay. The promenade where I would stroll down with friends and sit on the steps with chai and moongphali…is now a pile of rubble…eagerly, desperately awaiting the new Metro.
The weather…. turbulent winds and rain are sweeping the city. Random outbursts of thunder and lightning through the day and the night. I am cursed…it always starts pouring as soon I step out of the house. The autowalas are having a field day, hawking up their prices by 3 times, and getting it too, from hapless stranded people.
When I go out to our open air cafeteria with friends, to have our customary morning-evening cuppa..I have to tear myself away to come back inside. It is such bliss to feel the wind in my hair, to inhale big lungfuls of air, moist and sweet-smelling from the earth. I miss those days when I could dance in the rain with my friends, and we would come home to the knowledge of clean towels, piping hot coffee and samosas waiting for us.
Now, I will have to get my own towels and tea. And if my mother even heard about samosas, she would kill me… or get my aunt to do so. How the mighty have fallen!! :-D
The weather matches the mood in office. In Pharmaceutical marketing, there is a concept of a drug moving through different phases – I, II, III, Registration – before it can be launched into the market. It is safe to say that the entire middle management levels are in the latter two stages… chance mila toh “bhaaago”, as epitomized by Bollywood’s very own SRK, in his latest feel-good-dancing-around-trees flick.
We all watch and we wait… and meantime, we have come full cycle….
It is the best of times, it is the worst of times; it is the age of wisdom; it is the age of foolishness,
It is the epoch of belief, it is the epoch of incredulity; it is the season of light; it is the season of darkness.
Charles Dickens – A Tale of Two Cities
The weather…. turbulent winds and rain are sweeping the city. Random outbursts of thunder and lightning through the day and the night. I am cursed…it always starts pouring as soon I step out of the house. The autowalas are having a field day, hawking up their prices by 3 times, and getting it too, from hapless stranded people.
When I go out to our open air cafeteria with friends, to have our customary morning-evening cuppa..I have to tear myself away to come back inside. It is such bliss to feel the wind in my hair, to inhale big lungfuls of air, moist and sweet-smelling from the earth. I miss those days when I could dance in the rain with my friends, and we would come home to the knowledge of clean towels, piping hot coffee and samosas waiting for us.
Now, I will have to get my own towels and tea. And if my mother even heard about samosas, she would kill me… or get my aunt to do so. How the mighty have fallen!! :-D
The weather matches the mood in office. In Pharmaceutical marketing, there is a concept of a drug moving through different phases – I, II, III, Registration – before it can be launched into the market. It is safe to say that the entire middle management levels are in the latter two stages… chance mila toh “bhaaago”, as epitomized by Bollywood’s very own SRK, in his latest feel-good-dancing-around-trees flick.
We all watch and we wait… and meantime, we have come full cycle….
It is the best of times, it is the worst of times; it is the age of wisdom; it is the age of foolishness,
It is the epoch of belief, it is the epoch of incredulity; it is the season of light; it is the season of darkness.
Charles Dickens – A Tale of Two Cities
Monday, May 28, 2007
The years, that were…
Long ago and oh so far away
I fell in love with you...before the second show
And your guitar, you sound so sweet and clear
But your not really here, it's just the radio
8 years ago, on a bright sunny Sunday, we got a frantic call from my aunt. Her dog, Lucy, had gone into labor, but due to complications, we were going to have to do a C-section on her. Needless to say, the whole extended dog-loving-crazy-family I proudly call mine, rushed pell-mell over to the vet’s.
And half hour later, one “teensy weensy” golden colored pup was born.
He wasn’t breathing back then, and had to be revived with a drop of brandy, at which he “woke up” gasping and spluttering. And my aunt told “Kishoreda” to place him in my arms straightway. From the day I brought him home, and he tottered around my room, scaring the heebi-jeebis out of Sacha, who couldn’t believe our perfidy, it was the start a wonderful love affair.
That brandy truly defined his personality. We called him Leo, after Leonardo Da Vinci.. Ma, being a physics person, thought that it would beget great brains. Sadly, he was more Leonardo DiCaprio… tall, handsome and really really blonde. J
All of Leo’s swaggering about, though, was at home, with people he was comfortable with. We would call him for ages, but he would deign to come, only if he felt like it. However, all his arrogance disappeared outside the house. At the Vet’s, for example, people would be exclaiming over how pretty he was, and he would keep backing into us, and struggling in vain to fit that huge body under our chairs, with looks of complete disapproval at strangers.
The one “person” he ADORED, was Sacha.. our older dog.. who adored him back in return. They would spend endless hours with each other, doing the doggie equivalent “sitting around and chatting”. Wherever Sacha would go, Leo would faithfully follow. One was a tiny Spitz, the other, a humongous Labrador…David and Goliath…yet, the two dogs never ever hurt each other.
Ma loved him and spoilt him, as she always has and always will, with animals. However, she was always a little grieved that he didn’t ever “behave like a dog”, i.e., he did what he wanted to do, how he wanted to do it. He also behaved like the perennial cat.. would come to hug us if he wanted, and if he didn’t, he would shrug us off, and even lift a lip to show he meant business.
With me, it was unconventional. I didn’t really have a hassle about him shrugging us off when he didn’t feel like being hugged.. I am, in a way, the same type. So we left each other alone when we didn’t want to be bothered, and hugged each other when we did. Mom used to tell me, when she was really upset about my lack of emotion, “Ur just like Leo, ur not like Sacha”… I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry..
I went by the honorable adage of being the only one, who he would permit a lot of indignity from. My favorite de-stressing technique used to be sitting there on the floor, dragging him close and checking for ticks, cleaning his nails and ears, and generally spending quality time with him. After a while, he would lie there, upturned, legs paddling away happily in the air, a blissful look on his face, while I scratched his stomach or his sides.
He died yesterday morning. Mom drove down with him to our farmhouse, to have him placed among the flowers, so that he will always be with us.
When I write this, I realize that I will never hug him again, or rap him on the nose for “grr-ing” at me, or see that thrilled “I’m a god” expression on his face when he successfully bows for his biscuit. I will never hug him tight, and feel that fur in my hands, and use him for a pillow at night.
And my heart is splintering..
I fell in love with you...before the second show
And your guitar, you sound so sweet and clear
But your not really here, it's just the radio
8 years ago, on a bright sunny Sunday, we got a frantic call from my aunt. Her dog, Lucy, had gone into labor, but due to complications, we were going to have to do a C-section on her. Needless to say, the whole extended dog-loving-crazy-family I proudly call mine, rushed pell-mell over to the vet’s.
And half hour later, one “teensy weensy” golden colored pup was born.
He wasn’t breathing back then, and had to be revived with a drop of brandy, at which he “woke up” gasping and spluttering. And my aunt told “Kishoreda” to place him in my arms straightway. From the day I brought him home, and he tottered around my room, scaring the heebi-jeebis out of Sacha, who couldn’t believe our perfidy, it was the start a wonderful love affair.
That brandy truly defined his personality. We called him Leo, after Leonardo Da Vinci.. Ma, being a physics person, thought that it would beget great brains. Sadly, he was more Leonardo DiCaprio… tall, handsome and really really blonde. J
All of Leo’s swaggering about, though, was at home, with people he was comfortable with. We would call him for ages, but he would deign to come, only if he felt like it. However, all his arrogance disappeared outside the house. At the Vet’s, for example, people would be exclaiming over how pretty he was, and he would keep backing into us, and struggling in vain to fit that huge body under our chairs, with looks of complete disapproval at strangers.
The one “person” he ADORED, was Sacha.. our older dog.. who adored him back in return. They would spend endless hours with each other, doing the doggie equivalent “sitting around and chatting”. Wherever Sacha would go, Leo would faithfully follow. One was a tiny Spitz, the other, a humongous Labrador…David and Goliath…yet, the two dogs never ever hurt each other.
Ma loved him and spoilt him, as she always has and always will, with animals. However, she was always a little grieved that he didn’t ever “behave like a dog”, i.e., he did what he wanted to do, how he wanted to do it. He also behaved like the perennial cat.. would come to hug us if he wanted, and if he didn’t, he would shrug us off, and even lift a lip to show he meant business.
With me, it was unconventional. I didn’t really have a hassle about him shrugging us off when he didn’t feel like being hugged.. I am, in a way, the same type. So we left each other alone when we didn’t want to be bothered, and hugged each other when we did. Mom used to tell me, when she was really upset about my lack of emotion, “Ur just like Leo, ur not like Sacha”… I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry..
I went by the honorable adage of being the only one, who he would permit a lot of indignity from. My favorite de-stressing technique used to be sitting there on the floor, dragging him close and checking for ticks, cleaning his nails and ears, and generally spending quality time with him. After a while, he would lie there, upturned, legs paddling away happily in the air, a blissful look on his face, while I scratched his stomach or his sides.
He died yesterday morning. Mom drove down with him to our farmhouse, to have him placed among the flowers, so that he will always be with us.
When I write this, I realize that I will never hug him again, or rap him on the nose for “grr-ing” at me, or see that thrilled “I’m a god” expression on his face when he successfully bows for his biscuit. I will never hug him tight, and feel that fur in my hands, and use him for a pillow at night.
And my heart is splintering..
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Shifting Sands
April come she will
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
--- P. Simon
April and May were the months of shifting.. shifting from one house to another, an office to another. Both new spaces being at Marathahalli, and both old spaces being at opposite end of the world.
Struggled with a mountainous amount of furniture, and thank the Lord that there were friends who helped me pack and unpack, through two weekends. My new flat mates moved in last Friday. We get along great, so I’m very happy with general setup.. fingers crossed. :)
The house still looks like a tornado hit it, tho, with dust huddled together in odd corners, and kitchen utensils and various masalas being dumped randomly on granite shelves. Dust mites roll across the great prairie we call our living room, friends tell us to open the fans, so that the dust will shift away and hide under corners. The same people want to come and play cricket and TT in our living room, so I don’t put too much weight on their words of wisdom.
But it’s been worth it. The house is white and light and spacious. It is so big that one almost rattles around in it. My furniture, which seemed too much, at my old flat, now seems pathetically less.
Come dawn, and sunlight filters in from all angles, hitting my face across slanted shutters. Stumbling sleepily out to the open kitchen, we throw open both balcony doors, and feel the heat and wind on our faces, as we drink our coffee.
Evening brings with it a cool cool breeze, the curtains dancing in the drafts of air, wind chimes doing their tinkling dances. Flopping down on the bean bags and floor cushions, this feels like home.
When streams are ripe and swelled with rain;
May, she will stay,
Resting in my arms again.
--- P. Simon
April and May were the months of shifting.. shifting from one house to another, an office to another. Both new spaces being at Marathahalli, and both old spaces being at opposite end of the world.
Struggled with a mountainous amount of furniture, and thank the Lord that there were friends who helped me pack and unpack, through two weekends. My new flat mates moved in last Friday. We get along great, so I’m very happy with general setup.. fingers crossed. :)
The house still looks like a tornado hit it, tho, with dust huddled together in odd corners, and kitchen utensils and various masalas being dumped randomly on granite shelves. Dust mites roll across the great prairie we call our living room, friends tell us to open the fans, so that the dust will shift away and hide under corners. The same people want to come and play cricket and TT in our living room, so I don’t put too much weight on their words of wisdom.
But it’s been worth it. The house is white and light and spacious. It is so big that one almost rattles around in it. My furniture, which seemed too much, at my old flat, now seems pathetically less.
Come dawn, and sunlight filters in from all angles, hitting my face across slanted shutters. Stumbling sleepily out to the open kitchen, we throw open both balcony doors, and feel the heat and wind on our faces, as we drink our coffee.
Evening brings with it a cool cool breeze, the curtains dancing in the drafts of air, wind chimes doing their tinkling dances. Flopping down on the bean bags and floor cushions, this feels like home.
Friday, March 16, 2007
There’s a nip in the air...
Our lives and loves come back to bite us in the ass.. in my case, almost literally.
Woke up today, all happy and chilled, unaware what was to befall. Pottering around the kitchen, with my cup of coffee, pausing now and then to look, google-eyed, at the strange people parading through the Oprah Show, I stopped, hearing some whining and screeching outside my flat. Opened the door and found 3 humungous (the perfect Bong word would be “humdo”) men, with bamboos, trying to corner a shivering little puppy, who had got in, by mistake, and was now crouched, desperately trying to meld into the foliage.
I saw red..naturally. Ran out, in god-knows-what-I-was-wearing, to fight the puppy’s battles for him, and in very incoherent Hindi, told the guys something to the effect of “Would u like it if you were beaten?” and “God hasn’t sent us here to beat up others” yada yada…
And managed to get puppy out, pick him up, and talk in “baby voice” and get him outside. Which was going FINE..till one idiot man hopped out in front of us, with a damn bamboo. Puppy panicked, and bit the hand that carried it, dropped to the ground, and disappeared somewhere.
Well, called up zillion doctors (there has got to be some advantages of working in a pharma oriented company) got details and got vaccinated, all within the hour. 3 more injections to go, in next 21 days. Slight twinges of pain traveling up and down arm, but otherwise all fine…so, STOP PANICKING, MOM :-D
This had happened to me, 3 yrs ago, when I woke up in my P.G. and found a little squirrel paddling away, half dead, in the pot. Fished it out (as I couldn’t possible flush it away and live with myself) dried it in the sun, with my towel. When it recovered, it bit me on my finger, for all my pains, and ran away.
I seem to see a pattern emerging..
Woke up today, all happy and chilled, unaware what was to befall. Pottering around the kitchen, with my cup of coffee, pausing now and then to look, google-eyed, at the strange people parading through the Oprah Show, I stopped, hearing some whining and screeching outside my flat. Opened the door and found 3 humungous (the perfect Bong word would be “humdo”) men, with bamboos, trying to corner a shivering little puppy, who had got in, by mistake, and was now crouched, desperately trying to meld into the foliage.
I saw red..naturally. Ran out, in god-knows-what-I-was-wearing, to fight the puppy’s battles for him, and in very incoherent Hindi, told the guys something to the effect of “Would u like it if you were beaten?” and “God hasn’t sent us here to beat up others” yada yada…
And managed to get puppy out, pick him up, and talk in “baby voice” and get him outside. Which was going FINE..till one idiot man hopped out in front of us, with a damn bamboo. Puppy panicked, and bit the hand that carried it, dropped to the ground, and disappeared somewhere.
Well, called up zillion doctors (there has got to be some advantages of working in a pharma oriented company) got details and got vaccinated, all within the hour. 3 more injections to go, in next 21 days. Slight twinges of pain traveling up and down arm, but otherwise all fine…so, STOP PANICKING, MOM :-D
This had happened to me, 3 yrs ago, when I woke up in my P.G. and found a little squirrel paddling away, half dead, in the pot. Fished it out (as I couldn’t possible flush it away and live with myself) dried it in the sun, with my towel. When it recovered, it bit me on my finger, for all my pains, and ran away.
I seem to see a pattern emerging..
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Salaam-e-kick-in-the-butt
As I’m sure you can tell - I’m not impressed with the movie at all. Had to sit through it, late nite show Sunday, and I wept through the disastrous remake of “Love Actually”.
The jist:
The jist:
- 3.5 hours and 12 songs
- 6 couples…each worse than the next. The love stories mostly made no sense whatsoever, and each person was a wasted role
- Rich and bounteous locales… namely London, upper crust Delhi society, and potshots at Rajasthan, Taj Mahal and rural Haryana (I think)
- Hopping randomly between couples, and songs breaking whatever story/pace they could have hoped to have had
- Blonde chicks wearing ghagra choli and dancing at Trafalgar Square, London, while Priyanka Chopra ran amok in between the Baywatch babes, wearing a satin nightgown
- John Abraham.. all he did was run like crazy trying to find his “beloved” who has amnesia, and howl at the moon
- Anil Kapoor looked at his watch all the time, throughout the movie and lusted after a cabaret dancer type thing..
- Govinda saying (this is how you have to pronounce it)...“Mai-dum, I Laaabh Oo” to a foreign chick…
The fun part:
- In the movie, one Haryanvi couple, who’s primary ambition is to finally consummate their passion after marriage. The groom kept saying “kurr, kurr”. The dialogue was, errr…well, I don’t have words for it actually.. it went something like this..
“Aag lagg-ing ji.. in the backside”..
No, that MERELY means that there was a actual fire burning away, behind them, in the “suhhag raat room” or whatever you call it.. - The red lights in the movie hall flickering on and off, at the very part where they are talking of “Diwali ka raat mein hum dono”
- The movie reel getting stuck at the point where the doctor explains short term memory loss. So you actually had to hear the same dialogue thrice, almost as if YOU had partial amnesia..
Which reminds me.. have to ask my Jatni friend if “kurr, kurr” is a mating call particular to that region…
Thursday, January 18, 2007
play me...
read Scout's blog, got all excited, and wanted to see what my own Tarot was..just for kicks really.. and THIS is what it came up with..very nice and flaterring, even though i say so myself :-D
You are The Sun
Happiness, Content, Joy.
The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.
Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.
The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.
You are The Sun
Happiness, Content, Joy.
The meanings for the Sun are fairly simple and consistent.
Young, healthy, new, fresh. The brain is working, things that were muddled come clear, everything falls into place, and everything seems to go your way.
The Sun is ruled by the Sun, of course. This is the light that comes after the long dark night, Apollo to the Moon's Diana. A positive card, it promises you your day in the sun. Glory, gain, triumph, pleasure, truth, success. As the moon symbolized inspiration from the unconscious, from dreams, this card symbolizes discoveries made fully consciousness and wide awake. You have an understanding and enjoyment of science and math, beautifully constructed music, carefully reasoned philosophy. It is a card of intellect, clarity of mind, and feelings of youthful energy.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Child with eyes like black pools
Last nite I dreamt of a little child. With tiny fingers that curled around one of mine. Black hair, and eyes, limpid pools of black.
There was no deep ache in my gut, that signified she was mine. But the way I barked at my mother, when she told me how to apply “Johnson’s Baby Oil”, told me that she was. :-D
It was a strange dream, as I have never been particularly a “baby-person”.
I wonder what it all meant...
There was no deep ache in my gut, that signified she was mine. But the way I barked at my mother, when she told me how to apply “Johnson’s Baby Oil”, told me that she was. :-D
It was a strange dream, as I have never been particularly a “baby-person”.
I wonder what it all meant...
In praise of idleness
Spent a lovely week, culminating with the 31st of this year, at my aunt’s place.
It is a lovely place in Whitefield, so much more a haven than “just a house”. With verdant gardens, and lily pools where goldfish frolic. A little turtle pokes his head out from the fronds and enjoys the morning sun. A catfish called Mao (only the Bongs will understand the joke, I think) who swims out to the surface when his name is called, and gobbles up the fish food. I think he is the only “pet” fish that I know of.
I spend the days in relaxed bliss, being looked after, chatting to Dida. The only blips on my radar are the loads of office work, and the daily commute to the city centre.
I wake up in the morning, and coffee appears magically by my side, whenever I stumble downstairs, groggy and half-asleep.
Meandering out into the garden, I collapse on a reclining chair, soaking in the sun. Dida sits by me, and discuss all and any random topic. She thinks I know everything. HAH!! I know zilch, as I tell her, I only know how to say what I know, in a convincing manner. I suspect it’s a genetic flair, got from a late grandfather of mine. At any rate, she loves hearing me speak. :-D
With my own Didubhai, as I used to call my late Gran, I didn’t spend as much quality time with her, as I could have. I was growing up and she was too slow for the pace, I felt back then, for me to slow down, and hold her hand for awhile. Now that she is gone, and I miss her fiercely, and I regret all those moments, wasted, vanished.
So now, I am softer, gentler with the Grans I have left, cherishing the time I spend with them. I think, I hope, that Dida enjoys my company.
It is a lovely place in Whitefield, so much more a haven than “just a house”. With verdant gardens, and lily pools where goldfish frolic. A little turtle pokes his head out from the fronds and enjoys the morning sun. A catfish called Mao (only the Bongs will understand the joke, I think) who swims out to the surface when his name is called, and gobbles up the fish food. I think he is the only “pet” fish that I know of.
I spend the days in relaxed bliss, being looked after, chatting to Dida. The only blips on my radar are the loads of office work, and the daily commute to the city centre.
I wake up in the morning, and coffee appears magically by my side, whenever I stumble downstairs, groggy and half-asleep.
Meandering out into the garden, I collapse on a reclining chair, soaking in the sun. Dida sits by me, and discuss all and any random topic. She thinks I know everything. HAH!! I know zilch, as I tell her, I only know how to say what I know, in a convincing manner. I suspect it’s a genetic flair, got from a late grandfather of mine. At any rate, she loves hearing me speak. :-D
With my own Didubhai, as I used to call my late Gran, I didn’t spend as much quality time with her, as I could have. I was growing up and she was too slow for the pace, I felt back then, for me to slow down, and hold her hand for awhile. Now that she is gone, and I miss her fiercely, and I regret all those moments, wasted, vanished.
So now, I am softer, gentler with the Grans I have left, cherishing the time I spend with them. I think, I hope, that Dida enjoys my company.
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