I was lazy once, and young

Oh wait... still am. I just needed to validate my own existence by resurrecting the blog. Frankly, no one who works every day and in their right mind has the time to blog regularly. But oh the places I've been, oh the adventures I've seen.

Aliveness

The wrenching feeling wafted away on a warm summer zephyr leaving only rustling leaves in its wake. Novelty twinkled at me in lights that brightened my path on a balmy eve. That’s when the finishing touches to a transition from a child to grown up was quickly made, leaving no sense of regret or loss. Instead a fulfilling feeling of well being swelled within me, blotting out other thoughts and emotions. If life’s going to be doled out to me in pieces, I’ve been getting a taste of what’s in store for me in every morsel I bite into with gusto. But expectation doesn’t take the joy out of savouring every bit handed out to me, rationed, like everyone else.
The moon may inspire poets but here I’m grasping for words that float away on wisps of thought uncongealed. Words seem too little a compensation for what every sense is on fire with. Joy is a long winding road with no one in sight, nothing but trees and cultivated land and the breeze that swills my hair about. Sleep and dreams bartered for something equally precious. People, remarks, jokes, comments, discussions and everything the day encompassed is momentarily forgotten as I savour this ‘aliveness’. It’s an incredible feeling, impossible to describe.

My sister, the pirate

My general evening tranquility was chased away by my younger sister rushing about the house like a mini tornado. Coat after coat was tried on and discarded. My irritation mounted as the pile of discarded clothes grew. Finally exasperated, I bellowed, "What do you want?" Her face broke into a smile, "I thought you’d never ask!" Their Microbiology Department was having a farewell party for their seniors the next day and the theme was pirates. Since she was the compere, she needed to look like a pirate. (all this at 10 o clock in the night) "Why are you collecting boy pirate clothes when you're a girl pirate?" I asked. She looked at me blankly. I knew Jack Sparrow had a cult fan following but someone who could identify microbial cultures and autoclave with their eyes shut couldn't even think of the obvious?!? But that's why I was there -the guiding light, the bordering on insanity 'ad' girl. Some burrowing in our bottomless closet revealed a very 'piratey' white shirt. Since she'd be the first pirate to wear jeans we figured the rest should be a little believable. Then I bundled her in a Jacket and tied a rag round her waist. The eye patch and hook would come tomorrow. A bandana and two oversized pens (her weapons) finished the "look". Sweating profusely under layers of clothing she eyed her 70 plus kilo frame in the mirror and said dismally, "I look fat!" Well Chubbs, you ARE fat. Muttering mutinously at the impracticality of pirate-wear she wondered how they raided anything in all those togs!
Now that her costume was in place, she looked at me beseechingly with her puppy eyes, “I don’t have a script.” I knew it was coming! After yelling at her for a few minutes for effect, I got down to writing it. There’s nothing to pirate talk really. Mostly half eaten words and exclamations like “Shiver me timbers” and sea specific words like “Shark Bait”. Aye! It be easy t’ git on with. I couldn’t understand how such smart kids could come up with a wholly unoriginal name like ‘Crystal Violet’ a rip-off from ‘Black Pearl’ methought. My sister looked at me wondering which ditsy planet I came from. “Crystal Violet is a stain” she said. Oh! My bad! But hey, I’m not the microbiologist! A full dress rehearsal ensued thereafter and “Arrrr!s” were flying left, right and center.
So that’s my sister, a cross between Jack Sparrow, Captain Hook and Elizabeth Swann.

Wonder

Taking a break from Math is on the agenda since numbers aren’t really supposed to swim around your head. Shutting my eyes isn’t the solution since the numbers also sneak up on me there. So I hazard a glance outside the window and receive a pleasant shock. Pleasant shock is the correct term since I haven’t seen a sight like this in ages and the inherent simplicity of the beauty fills my joyous cup to the brim. A passing shower left the trees a greeny green, dripping dew. The sky was a gentle blue grey. It looked like something I’d have drawn in art class with poster paints titled ‘A rainy day’ or something. Simply marvelous with all the greens with bright orangey-red flowers to offset it. It even made the black tar road look pretty in the setting. The beach was a decided gold and the sea a tinkly silver. So much beauty!!! I drank it in like a shipwrecked survivor starved for food. How much I took for granted. How much I missed because my nose was stuck in a book or my mind on a cellphone conversation. To add to the awesomeness, a sparrow chirruped from a wet bough and his brothers joined in chorus. Quite a rare sight (sparrows have gone Gawd-kows-where). It put me in such a generous mood that even I forgave the crows their grating caw. And the air! Oh the air! It smelt like paradise. One whiff and I was made new again. Something about it makes you feel like a new person –cold, fresh, smelling like wet earth and flowers. As close to heaven as I get, on earth.

A day in the life of a Client servicing exec (mine)

The following events describe the total chaos that precede and follow a visit from the ever exuberant Dee.
A sunny morning, when the rain gods have taken pity on us, wonderful weather greets us on our day to work.Our spirits buoyed, we file into our desks and plan our day. Okay. Urgent press gets priority.Our 5 member team is whittled down to 3 since our a.d. is out with a bad back and our a.e. has suspected flu.

Having no clue about the job that’s just been thunked on my lap, I familiarize myself with the need to connect telecom and Indian independence. Also juggling horrendous hoardings that have been changed at least thrice.
The sup and trainee hover around protectively.

Our merry pace at work suddenly accelerates (with our heartbeat) when we are informed that Dee and S.P. are on their way to “personally supervise & approve” the press ad. (translated as ‘sit on our head till we expedite’)

Poor D Ray G and Sidee have been given the task of making the obscure connection between telecom and independence. One option has been bombed and time till 11 has been spent trying to salvage it in vain. No recycling possible for option 1, 1 A, 1 B and 1 C despite valiant attempts.

Arrival of Dee in a breeze sets everyone going at a typhoons pace. Her black skirt and stockinged legs draw people’s eyes like magnets. She nonchalantly skips about and cracks a couple of sad ones with M G P and COO.

Given the task of tailing her and sticking to her like a burr, I keep at it fervently. Her meanderings are cut short by my leading her into a conference room to repose. S.P. meanwhile lodges himself in the COO’s cabin, deep in discussion with Wabs on strategy.

Since storms cannot be contained in teacups, I’m half dragged to the creative side trying to hold Dee’s curiosity on how our press ad is turning out.

A sweating Sammy working things out with Sidee and D Ray G as quickly as time permits. Voila, layout almost done. Dee gives her blessing, S.P. gives his.
Then comes the fine tuning.

AGM at 3, and at 2 S.P. promptly heads in that direction. Lunch in the aforementioned conference room with Dee. Sammy comes in to help with the PC (polite conversation). In non work related things, Dee is actually quite cool. Lunch is spent eating subs and discussing Feng Shui fish. At 5 minutes to 3, Dee trots off giving us breathing space till 6.30 to figure our lives out.

Artworks etc happen and the legal twist needs approvals. So we wait till 6.30. high level stress since we have around 6 of them to go (2 double spreads and 4 language ones).

At 6.30 they saunter in hungry. After being fed and watered, they suggest changes that are made super fast. Thrice we show them, thrice they ask for changes. The fourth time we hit a jackpot and are lucky (or so we think). Our creative guys decide we haven’t had enough for one day. D Ray G begins making noticeable changes in the layout.

Deadline crossed by a wonderful 5 hours, we send out the files.

“Oh! What have you sent” accompanies a shocked expression by our Sup as he checks it.
I have a near heart attack and the trainees knees buckle.
His face breaks into a smile. What a time to play a prank!!!

S.P. has left about 2 hours ago. Dee hovers around looking into other people’s computers and taking advantage of our general busy-ness to play Polly pry to perfection.

Ché holds fort making ultimate PC. First she gives subtle hints about cabs.
Then it becomes not so subtle till I image she is going to forcibly pack her into a one and send her away.
No such thing. Dee decides she wants to go back to hubby and after a sweet round of goodbyes she leaves in a whirl.

All our nerves near collapse we gleefully make our way home. The end of another exciting. Adventure-filled day.

Monday to the new

Monday mornings should, as a rule, move smoothly. If not, it has the possibility of messing up your entire week.

This Monday however began on a nervous note. Let me explain.
On the bus I sat next to this woman who kept her hands firmly on the back of the seat in front. Every two minutes it looked like she was either going to get up or was clutching onto it for dear life like Schumacher was driving the bus. So I sat more or less in a continuous state of apprehension.

The jump into the train and the ride upped the adrenaline, that, for some reason, is still coursing through my veins.Coupled with the fact that I’m a complete wreck about this ‘sit-at-home-to-study’ thing.Well it robbed me of a good night’s sleep. So glad I spent it fruitfully reading Wodehouse though.
The result it, despite the lack of sleep and nervousness, I have a cheerful disposition.

And the little sleep I managed to grab was punctuated with vivid dreams of Channing Tatum as a dancing G.I. Joe (watched the night before). He’s hot no matter what.
So today begins the rhinoceros stampede to the end of a chapter.

Ricky Martin couldn’t have put it better…go go go… allez allez allez!

Rainy wainy

I trundle through wet streets with my many bags hoping to reach work on time. The incessant patter of rain on my umbrella leaves me quite deaf. This grumpiness from the person who loves rain and prayed for it?! Let me clarify, I like watching the rain when I’m warmly snuggling in my bed with a mug of hot coffee. But reaching work sopping wet to a welcoming air conditioner with the appearance of a wet chicken… well that’s not part of the plan at all. So I pinged God on his IM. “wht da heck?!”. His reply -“rotflmao”. Sigh, it’s not very comforting when God’s laughing his ass off at your plight. “wtf??!!!” I type back furious.
Well it’s like this. We humans love to curse things. When it’s hot we curse the heat and pray for rain so we can curse it instead. When it rains we yell our head off at the wetness dreaming of cool winter days. Through chattering teeth in winter we yearn for sunshiney summers with all its vacation. All year round God is grumbled at. So he gets his kick out of making us look like wet chickens, cooked geese or cold turkey.
This season goes both ways, the smell of lovely wet earth vs fungassy clothes, blissful weekends to cold and wet weekdays. Good and bad are a couple and they’re here to stay.

Confrontation

I wonder what people do when confronted wit something they’ve been trying to avoid they’re entire lives. Like if someone they’ve loved deeply for a long time doesn’t love them back or they’re a total loser with no scope for redemption. It could also be something positive, like they’re made for bigger, better things and were wasting they’re lives until now. Does it break down the entire construction of their lives leaving debris of brick and mortar? Does the building (life) develop cracks but still not crumble? One thing is for certain though; life cannot go on as it were. It has to change even if it doesn’t want to simply because this certain suppressed “fact” has come to light.

I have realized many people build their lives on false hopes, constructed realities and tend to gloss over all that is imperfect. On the outside they are happy and smiling, but on the inside the truth eats at them slowly, unconsciously clawing its way to the surface till one day, in a burst of fresh air, it breaks free. In its aftermath it leaves behind change.

Basically it’s a confrontation between the individual they think they are and the individual they really are. The time and money they’ve spent trying to keep their secret personalities under wraps has gone to the dogs. I wonder if they try and salvage their ego and pride from the crumbling edifice or begin rebuilding it. And if rebuilt would it be the truth or an alter-ego?