And the grind begins

4-5^th Jan 2015

Whoa! Hectic as hell. No wonder I didn’t have energy to come back and study or even open my computer. The registrations started with a confusion as the order was shuffled for no logical reason whatsoever. However I got through on time and spent the rest of the day studying for the QM test scheduled later in the evening. Didn’t do good at the test, was expected. Even though I scored well at engineering mathematics, numbers always make me feel uncomfortable. Went out for a little celebration at pop tates with a new group of friends. It’s always good to talk over a pitcher J We also got a little cake for Prasad who was humble enough to perform for us after we finished his birthday celebrations.

Day 1 of the actual classes. Started with inaugurations. I’m glad I had a good feeling about the institute and felt welcoming. The focus on the values and cultural growth, in addition to professional development struck a chord. Looking forward to a good time ahead.

Debasis sir, Anshul sir and Vanita maam were the lecturers scheduled for the day. While the QM class went as expected, and MA was stereotype, MCDR was completely out of the league. Its always exciting to see excel at work. Lets hope we remember atleast a few on the formulae we learnt today.

Day 1 @ SPJIMR

The last time I came to Mumbai was during excursions organized by OG for Shivaji house in April 1999, technically in the last century. Arrived early morning at LTT , woke up when the train halted with a sudden jolt. Realized I was still asleep while the other passengers had already alighted. The AC coach attendant was throwing the blankets on the platform, amidst dust and trash. Yes , the same ones we used since last 2 days.

 The Uber driver raced through the streets while the city was waking up to the chirps. There it was – the place where I would spend the next year, the place that I’m really hoping to be proud of , after OG – SP Jain Institute of Management and Research.

The day went by seeing new faces, with familiar names. People had already started huddling in groups, with some had an eye for the PGDM. Have QM test scheduled tomorrow, and registrations early at 9.

Some chit chats, some bitching, lots of handshakes and a lot more laughter. Lets hope I can keep up this journal.

Good night, world. A new morning awaits.

Helplessness

If there was one wish that someone granted me, it would be omnipresence. How many times have you had that feeling of helplessness when you want to be somewhere and you just can’t? We make informed, well thought decisions and then label them as sacrifices to pacify our mind. We’ll, it wouldn’t be called a sacrifice if it didn’t hurt, will it? But at times I am forced to question its worth.

How worthy is your job if your Mom has to walk up to a dentist herself to get her tooth extracted. The doctor said ‘do not speak for a while’ but she has to, in order to reason out with the chemist and the rickshaw-wallah; causing blood to ooze out and have her rushed back to the dentist. You can’t talk to her, just hear her mumble she’s fine. That is the feeling of helplessness.

They happily carry a new LED TV from The States, hoping to replace their 15 year old CRT TV, with a ‘Smart’ one, but can’t get it to work. Apparently, it’s too smart for them. You try your best to help via Skype on a patchy network, but all in vain. “So what it didn’t work beta, we will keep it packed and wait for you to come and set it up for us this Diwali”. That is the moment of helplessness I’m talking about. How worthy is that TV you purchased for them if you aren’t there to set it up for them.

Make your choices wisely. You can’t be omnipresent. Nothing can replace You.

Lunch Break

Our usual lunch table was occupied today. New faces that I hadn't seen around on the floor. They were all brimming with energy and excitement. Sharing lunch boxes, introducing each other, some silent smiles, many giggles, a few looks through the corner of their eyes. Mischievous faces, serious faces. This was our new batch of interns.

 We lose our enthusiasm very easily in our 9-5 grinds, you know. Looking at those bright faces, images of our TCS training back in 2009 flashed in front of my eyes. It was fun. Proud batch of campus placed students. Making new friends in the co-ed hostel. Smartly dressed in Van Heusens, proud of that tie. Ah, those lovely days. Rushing to our usual dhaba to gorge on paranthas, ditching the coconut oil canteen food. Late night stairway talks, smoke walks, freestyle dance sessions.

Fast forward half a decade and here I am, looking at those kids. Yes, I call them kids, not because I'm too old, or they are too young either. But the energy they have is no less than of kids. I finish my lunch, pack my empty lunchbox and walk back to my cube with a sudden urge to go back to school or maybe become an intern or a trainee again.

Such is life.

मेरी कोई तस्वीर नही तेरे घर में

मेरी कोई तस्वीर नही तेरे घर में,
इक शमा ही जला दिया होता.

जुड़ा रहता तुझसे साये की तरह,
ग़र बुझा दिया, तो अंधेरे सा परवाना.

My room

I have never had a room for myself in my house. As far as I can remember, I have always slept in the living room on the spare diwan. I am not complaining, though. I always have the liberty to watch TV late at night. Albeit my luxury would be complemented with the same TV blaring pravachans early next morning. Being a partitioned house, it was more like a few compartments of a train with a pantry car in between. Linear. You couldn't get to the bedroom without going through the living, dining room and crossing the bathroom and kitchen on the side. So everytime someone passed by the highway, I got to hear either " abhi tak soya nahi" , or " abhi tak so raha hai".  At times it was irritating, but deep inside, I knew people cared about me.

Fast forward 10 years. I have a room of my own now. A penthouse unit with a terrace. Textured walls, attached bath and a walk in wardrobe. My dad ensured that the vent for AC ducts were made at the right place. It gets too hot in summers, you know. My mom made additional efforts to supervise the painters and plumbers. Moms are perfectionists, aren't they ? She also planted a few seasonal flowers in those earthen pots, colored in saffron. Even though I hadn't moved in yet, she ensured the maid swept and mopped the marbled floor every alternate day. In the evenings, she switches on the lights as is the tradition in our culture. Goddess Lakshmi doesn't enter a dark house.

Then one fine morning, the earthquake struck.

Q: Am I Back ?

A: - I dont know.

Was just reading an article, or should rather say a short story, The Semplica-Girl Diaries, by George Saunders, on The New Yorker. The author has a simple philosophy behind the story - He writes. He writes everyday, because if he writes a page a day, he is overwhelmed to realise that by the end of the year, he will have written a 356 page book! Not to publish, but for his posterity to read about how it was at his times. A great thought I would say. And thus, here I am writing after a long while, defenitely not for my posterity, but for me to read, may be a couple of years down the lane, and smile, may be sit and ponder what crap i used to write!

So I'll get back to the story now, since my manager( who sits right behind my cube and can see my screen)  is off today and I have nothing to do at office on a lazy Friday afternoon. I do have Sandy at the back of my mind. Yeah, Sandy. I always wonder who names these cyclones and hurricanes( Katrina, Sandy ..) ? The Met Dept ? I dnt think so, they sound too boring to do such stuff. Yeah, so Sandy - The Hurricane is coming to the East Coast, probably day after tomorrow, and with an impressive record of gobbling 21 + lives as of now; scaring us all over the coast. Who wouldnt? The Weather Channel says its gained a speed of over 80 miles per hour ( More than Shatabdi Exp ? ).


So lets welcome Sandy and my return here by getting back to The New Yorker . Trust me, it feels so good to write.

The Silent Journey.

I seldom strike a conversation with a stranger on a local bus. I’m not sure what made me talk to him. And see the irony of it, he was mute.

There was something about him that made me notice as soon as he stepped in the bus. He looked around for the conductor to probably crosscheck if the bus went to his destination, found him busy and stepped out to read the LED display. Stepped in again, the conductor still busy, and found an empty seat next to me. I fumbled with my destination name with the erratic conductor while he confidently popped out a piece of paper with his destination written on it. Our destinations were same.

“Do you have any idea where 5^th Cross……” he broke me off by putting his finger on his lips and signaled me that my words didn’t reach him. He was mute.

I was balled over. Didn’t know what to do. Gave him a sorry smile and looked away. There was an eerie silence which was bothering me. I had to talk to him. He was browsing the route on Google maps on his swanky Nokia E6, when the idea struck me. I took out my phone and started typing a message. When I was done, I reluctantly showed him my screen. We struck a chord.

He was going to the place to search for a house for rent. I leave if for our imagination to deal with how he must have done it. He cuffed both his palms in a way and pointed ahead to ask my purpose of the journey, I didn’t understand. He typed if I was going to see a friend? He said that he and his friends needed to move to this address so as to save travel time to office. I was wondering why his 5 other roommates had sent him to go look for a new place to put up. He smiled at me and showed his screen. “All my room mates are like me – they can’t speak or hear anything”.

I realized that the gentleman leaning on his seat was pretty inquisitive about our silent conversation and when I looked around, saw some more people looking at us with sympathy. Pity on them! I asked him about his work. I would be honest to say that I was taken aback. He along with 2 other roomies worked for Deutsche Bank as analysts, and one each for Concentrix, HP and Accenture. I meekly told him – I work for TCS.

( untyped) And do not stand anywhere near you heroes.

I did ask the conductor once how far our destination was as I had never been there, he kept calm with his GPS, and told me we are about to be there.

I didn’t want the journey to end. However we exchanged our contact details and stood up to get down. Before bidding adieu, I typed my last question - “How do you manage your life in this ugly world? “ We got down, shook hands, our eyes met. He smiled, gave me thumbs up and walked away.

*** This post is dedicated to all those physically challenged people out there who face the same world, which is ugly and mean for us.