His heart pounded as he looked about uneasily. His palms were sweaty, his breathing heavy. He had known that the sacrificial chamber would be big. But this monstrosity was beyond his wildest imagination. And the beastly adornments! The uncouth burst of unholy light and bizarre colors seemed to be everywhere. The grand chamber looked like it was built to offend the gods themselves.
He glanced sideways to gauge his clan brother's reaction. His eyes were wide as well. He appeared to be fascinated by the sight.
They were among the last of a clan of warriors. A few years back, the world had been very different. There had been many more of them. The clan had been thriving. That was a time for joy and festivities. Mead was consumed aplenty and holy smoke had filled every mind with ecstasy. Little did they realize then that the accursed gods had given them such limited time.
One by one, clan members were being picked off. None of them gave it much thought when it started. It continued unabated, the attrition, silent and deadly. So did the merriments, and nobody was any wiser. Now there were just a handful of them. The festivities were over for good. The survivors were frantic and scared. All of them were struggling against those demonic forces. And there was no hope for the future.
His reverie was broken by his clan brother exclaiming, "Let's go in, we're already late by an hour!"
"Big deal! The baaraat hasn't even reached yet, by the looks of it", he replied.
With the air of men who had long since resigned to their fate, they started walking towards the entrance of the marriage hall.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
A Cold Summer Night
Along the lonely boulevard I walk,
The fallen leaves dance around my feet.
'Tis raw, 'tis harsh and 'tis bleak,
Worse is being denied what you seek.
The world is cold and unkind, it's true,
But being alone is what makes me blue.
Even the cruel wind feels liberating, bittersweet,
And the fallen leaves dance around my feet.
The fallen leaves dance around my feet.
'Tis raw, 'tis harsh and 'tis bleak,
Worse is being denied what you seek.
The world is cold and unkind, it's true,
But being alone is what makes me blue.
Even the cruel wind feels liberating, bittersweet,
And the fallen leaves dance around my feet.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Of Lost Friends and Moments Past
Here's a toast to friends lost,
Life's a journey a shade unkind.
Some got off at another stop,
Leaving lovely memories behind.
From some you do occasionally hear,
And wish that they could still be near.
A chosen few are always around,
Imagine life if they weren't found!
Au revoir, buddies lost in the grind,
Here's hoping new friends we'll always find!
Life's a journey a shade unkind.
Some got off at another stop,
Leaving lovely memories behind.
From some you do occasionally hear,
And wish that they could still be near.
A chosen few are always around,
Imagine life if they weren't found!
Au revoir, buddies lost in the grind,
Here's hoping new friends we'll always find!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Death by Induction - Part 2
“Actually MT stands for Managed Trainees, not…whatever you just said”
“Says who?” Kritin asked in a defiant voice.
“Dude, Nikku and Kardick both have close relatives who work for the company. They talked to all of us yesterday and revealed the ugly truth, apparently for our benefit. These recruitment people try to make you feel special before you accept the offer. After that, it is all about managing you and giving you all the bottom-level, support work until you manage to find a way out” Meechu answered.
This news seemed to sap Kritin of all his remaining courage. His shoulders visibly sagged and he covered his face with his hands. He also resumed his shivering, although that was partly because of the insanely low temperature setting for the room’s air-conditioning.
His reaction seemed to alarm the group.
“Er…are you ok? You are not having a stroke or something, right?” Kardick asked gently, looking a little scared. Kritin nodded to show that he was fine, at least physically.
“Give him some time Yaar. He just realized what a pickle he is in. Our reactions were not much better yesterday” Meechu told the others.
“Well no use fretting now. Just try to remain calm and professional and register on Naukar.com as soon as you get back to the hotel today evening.” Prachur commented wisely.
“Isn’t there a separate job search website for people from Well-known Management Institutes?” Nikku asked the others.
“Naah, it’s just named that way. Anybody can register.” Kardick grunted.
“Damn them!” Nikku exclaimed angrily.
In the meanwhile, Kritin had regained some of his composure. He looked straight ahead and mumbled, “Thank you guys for telling me this. Anyway, I don’t think it could be that bad. Maybe the people whom you talked to have become cynical having been in this company for so long and what you guys heard was a biased opinion.”
“Oh I think it might be much worse! Those people seemed to be holding something back” Prachur said.
“He is right in a way though. No point crying over spilt beer” said Meechu.
In the interim, a large, plump person had made his way to the podium. He cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence. Unfortunately he did that right in front of the microphone which happened to be on (and turned to full volume by the sound of it). Everybody in the room, including him, jumped in reaction to the sudden, loud sound.
“Sorry!” he screamed in the kind of shrill voice that makes your hair stand on end. Of course, the amplified sound was once again too loud for comfort. People covered their ears and glared at him reproachfully. He finally seemed to realize what the problem was and spoke in a much softer voice this time.
“My name is Puchir and I am from the HR. I am here to brief you all about the program for the week. Today we will have sessions by Mr. XYZ and Mr. ZYX. Ms. Feha will take a session on HR as well.”
At this point a vast majority of the audience turned to their neighbors and (presumably) started complaining about the atrocities they will be subjected to over the coming fortnight. The more liberated folks naturally decided to indulge in a more colorful way of expressing their feelings, only some of them even trying to keep their voices outside Puchir’s earshot.
Somehow, Puchir mistook the outburst of protests for excitement and/or enthusiasm. Sounding as if he was giving everybody a real treat, he added, “Before we get to the sessions, we have a bunch of forms for you to fill!”
A stunned silence followed this announcement. A couple of HR minions entered the room right on cue and started distributing packets that seemed to be bursting with forms of every size, shape and color.
“These bloody HR people! All they think about is the best way to simultaneously waste the time of the maximum number of people possible.” Prachur complained as a packet was ungraciously thrust in his face.
“Looking at this junk, this company’s HR team seems to be exceptionally efficient at it” said Nikku.
The next 2 hours passed in a blur of form-filling, non-stop bitching and people constantly trying to find spare pens (or occasionally, trying to find their only pen which they had graciously lent to somebody). After losing his patience within the first 10 minutes, Kardick decided to blindly write his name on and sign every page of every form, which to Kritin’s surprise worked quite well. Prachur after much provocation by the others decided to approach Priyu with the ready-made excuse of asking for a pen. To everybody’s amusement, he came back red-faced as in response to his query Priyu merely raised her eyebrows in surprise and got back to filling her form.
It took a couple of hours for most people to be done with their forms. The HR minions returned to collect the packages from everyone and carried the huge pile away on a broken trolley-like contraption which looked suspiciously like one of those garbage-carrying trolley used by municipal workers. Nikku was certain that he saw the word Garbage written on the far side of it.
“I am telling you guys! It was faint but unmistakable!” he tried to convince the others.
“Well good riddance if that’s true” said Kardick with a disgusted expression on his face.
Puchir made another appearance on the podium.
“Huuuhh…you guys can all go and have your lunch now. Make sure you return by 2 for the first session.”
“About bloody time!” Meechu exclaimed as there was a sudden scramble to get out of the room. Kritin and the others had to wait till almost everyone had left the room. They followed the mass of MTs to the cafeteria, where everyone seemed to be crowding around the entrance.
“What the hell is wrong with these people? Don’t they even know how doors work?” Meechu cried out in frustration.
An exceptionally tall guy standing just in front of him replied, “It seems MTs are being turned away from the cafeteria by one of the HR people.”
“Great! One HR giveth, another taketh away” said Kardick sounding tired and resigned to his fate.
“Where has Nikku disappeared?” Kritin asked, suddenly having noticed that there were four of them there.
“Good question. Maybe he went to the restroom” Prachur suggested.
In the meanwhile, there seemed to be a shouting match going on next to the crowded doorway. Presumably it was one of the girls in the group (the Neta sort) who was letting the evil HR have it. Or maybe it was the other way around. Everyone at the back was trying to catch a glimpse of this soap opera-ish tussle. After some five minutes, the HR emerged from the crowd, clearly in a towering rage. She stormed off towards one of the several corridors. The Neta, whoever she happened to be, announced in a loud (and dismayed) voice that the cafeteria could not handle such a large group of MTs and so they all were to make their own arrangements for lunch.
“Let’s head out to that dhaba close to the intersection before the guy’s food is wiped out by this mob!” Meechu had to shout in order to be heard over the din that had broken out after the announcement. All of them had to resort to running flat out to stay ahead of the crowd.
“Managed Trainees my ass!” Kardick exclaimed angrily as he was pushed hard by one of the guys running right behind him. “Some of these guys seem to be lifetime members of The Global Association for Rude and Dangerously Violent People!” None of the others were in any shape to comment.
Thankfully the sliding doors were left open at lunch time else quite a few of the MTs (including the gang) would have had to be scraped off the reinforced glass by medics. The mad rush ebbed noticeably once most MTs got past the gate. A lot of them headed to a diminutive Pizza Hut located right across the road and only few of the remaining ones followed Kritin and the gang to the rather shady-looking dhaba.
They were no sooner seated on a rickety bench in the dhaba when Prachur's phone started belting out one of those Punjabi numbers that are perennially popular with the DJs.
Prachur remarked before taking the call, "It's that idiot Nikku!"
(Rest in Part 3. This reminds me of one of those multi-issue comics...or even Kill Bill, except it had just 2 parts!) :D
“Says who?” Kritin asked in a defiant voice.
“Dude, Nikku and Kardick both have close relatives who work for the company. They talked to all of us yesterday and revealed the ugly truth, apparently for our benefit. These recruitment people try to make you feel special before you accept the offer. After that, it is all about managing you and giving you all the bottom-level, support work until you manage to find a way out” Meechu answered.
This news seemed to sap Kritin of all his remaining courage. His shoulders visibly sagged and he covered his face with his hands. He also resumed his shivering, although that was partly because of the insanely low temperature setting for the room’s air-conditioning.
His reaction seemed to alarm the group.
“Er…are you ok? You are not having a stroke or something, right?” Kardick asked gently, looking a little scared. Kritin nodded to show that he was fine, at least physically.
“Give him some time Yaar. He just realized what a pickle he is in. Our reactions were not much better yesterday” Meechu told the others.
“Well no use fretting now. Just try to remain calm and professional and register on Naukar.com as soon as you get back to the hotel today evening.” Prachur commented wisely.
“Isn’t there a separate job search website for people from Well-known Management Institutes?” Nikku asked the others.
“Naah, it’s just named that way. Anybody can register.” Kardick grunted.
“Damn them!” Nikku exclaimed angrily.
In the meanwhile, Kritin had regained some of his composure. He looked straight ahead and mumbled, “Thank you guys for telling me this. Anyway, I don’t think it could be that bad. Maybe the people whom you talked to have become cynical having been in this company for so long and what you guys heard was a biased opinion.”
“Oh I think it might be much worse! Those people seemed to be holding something back” Prachur said.
“He is right in a way though. No point crying over spilt beer” said Meechu.
In the interim, a large, plump person had made his way to the podium. He cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence. Unfortunately he did that right in front of the microphone which happened to be on (and turned to full volume by the sound of it). Everybody in the room, including him, jumped in reaction to the sudden, loud sound.
“Sorry!” he screamed in the kind of shrill voice that makes your hair stand on end. Of course, the amplified sound was once again too loud for comfort. People covered their ears and glared at him reproachfully. He finally seemed to realize what the problem was and spoke in a much softer voice this time.
“My name is Puchir and I am from the HR. I am here to brief you all about the program for the week. Today we will have sessions by Mr. XYZ and Mr. ZYX. Ms. Feha will take a session on HR as well.”
At this point a vast majority of the audience turned to their neighbors and (presumably) started complaining about the atrocities they will be subjected to over the coming fortnight. The more liberated folks naturally decided to indulge in a more colorful way of expressing their feelings, only some of them even trying to keep their voices outside Puchir’s earshot.
Somehow, Puchir mistook the outburst of protests for excitement and/or enthusiasm. Sounding as if he was giving everybody a real treat, he added, “Before we get to the sessions, we have a bunch of forms for you to fill!”
A stunned silence followed this announcement. A couple of HR minions entered the room right on cue and started distributing packets that seemed to be bursting with forms of every size, shape and color.
“These bloody HR people! All they think about is the best way to simultaneously waste the time of the maximum number of people possible.” Prachur complained as a packet was ungraciously thrust in his face.
“Looking at this junk, this company’s HR team seems to be exceptionally efficient at it” said Nikku.
The next 2 hours passed in a blur of form-filling, non-stop bitching and people constantly trying to find spare pens (or occasionally, trying to find their only pen which they had graciously lent to somebody). After losing his patience within the first 10 minutes, Kardick decided to blindly write his name on and sign every page of every form, which to Kritin’s surprise worked quite well. Prachur after much provocation by the others decided to approach Priyu with the ready-made excuse of asking for a pen. To everybody’s amusement, he came back red-faced as in response to his query Priyu merely raised her eyebrows in surprise and got back to filling her form.
It took a couple of hours for most people to be done with their forms. The HR minions returned to collect the packages from everyone and carried the huge pile away on a broken trolley-like contraption which looked suspiciously like one of those garbage-carrying trolley used by municipal workers. Nikku was certain that he saw the word Garbage written on the far side of it.
“I am telling you guys! It was faint but unmistakable!” he tried to convince the others.
“Well good riddance if that’s true” said Kardick with a disgusted expression on his face.
Puchir made another appearance on the podium.
“Huuuhh…you guys can all go and have your lunch now. Make sure you return by 2 for the first session.”
“About bloody time!” Meechu exclaimed as there was a sudden scramble to get out of the room. Kritin and the others had to wait till almost everyone had left the room. They followed the mass of MTs to the cafeteria, where everyone seemed to be crowding around the entrance.
“What the hell is wrong with these people? Don’t they even know how doors work?” Meechu cried out in frustration.
An exceptionally tall guy standing just in front of him replied, “It seems MTs are being turned away from the cafeteria by one of the HR people.”
“Great! One HR giveth, another taketh away” said Kardick sounding tired and resigned to his fate.
“Where has Nikku disappeared?” Kritin asked, suddenly having noticed that there were four of them there.
“Good question. Maybe he went to the restroom” Prachur suggested.
In the meanwhile, there seemed to be a shouting match going on next to the crowded doorway. Presumably it was one of the girls in the group (the Neta sort) who was letting the evil HR have it. Or maybe it was the other way around. Everyone at the back was trying to catch a glimpse of this soap opera-ish tussle. After some five minutes, the HR emerged from the crowd, clearly in a towering rage. She stormed off towards one of the several corridors. The Neta, whoever she happened to be, announced in a loud (and dismayed) voice that the cafeteria could not handle such a large group of MTs and so they all were to make their own arrangements for lunch.
“Let’s head out to that dhaba close to the intersection before the guy’s food is wiped out by this mob!” Meechu had to shout in order to be heard over the din that had broken out after the announcement. All of them had to resort to running flat out to stay ahead of the crowd.
“Managed Trainees my ass!” Kardick exclaimed angrily as he was pushed hard by one of the guys running right behind him. “Some of these guys seem to be lifetime members of The Global Association for Rude and Dangerously Violent People!” None of the others were in any shape to comment.
Thankfully the sliding doors were left open at lunch time else quite a few of the MTs (including the gang) would have had to be scraped off the reinforced glass by medics. The mad rush ebbed noticeably once most MTs got past the gate. A lot of them headed to a diminutive Pizza Hut located right across the road and only few of the remaining ones followed Kritin and the gang to the rather shady-looking dhaba.
They were no sooner seated on a rickety bench in the dhaba when Prachur's phone started belting out one of those Punjabi numbers that are perennially popular with the DJs.
Prachur remarked before taking the call, "It's that idiot Nikku!"
(Rest in Part 3. This reminds me of one of those multi-issue comics...or even Kill Bill, except it had just 2 parts!) :D
Monday, July 19, 2010
Death by Induction - Part 1
Standard Disclaimer: Entirely a work of (non-sense) fiction. Any resemblance to a(n) person, place, event, animal, etc. is unintended and coincidental! *Wink wink*
"Yes?” the Security Guard asked as he looked up and saw the impeccably dressed, clean-shaven young man standing next to the window with an anxious look on his face.
He seemed to have chosen his clothes after going through the first chapter of "Business Attire for Dummies". He was sporting a no-frills, funeral black formal suit with what appeared to be a blindingly white shirt peering out, accompanied by a no-nonsense red tie. Everything about his attire screamed formal (or I-try-too-hard-to-please, depending on your way of looking at things). Unfortunately, the intended effect was spoiled by the fact that the poor guy looked a little pale and was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Er...sorry to disturb you. Ummm, I am a n-n-new joinee", was all that Kritin managed to say.
The Guard smiled knowingly. "Ah yes", he thought, "I should have recognized the symptoms."
The overtly formal and immaculate clothing, the anxiety, the paleness...everything matched the stereotype. He hadn't known too many who shook so much though.
"All new joinees came to the office together a little while back. Where were you?” the Guard asked in order to make conversation while he searched for a spare ID card holder. Bad move, he realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth. The guy turned even paler (which did not seem possible a few moments ago) and started blurting out excuses.
"I m-missed the bus because it was raining and there were too many people on the sidewalk so I couldn't reach the bus in time and I almost fell into the gutter..."
He would have gone on and on but the guard stopped him right there.
"Ok ok fine. It is all going to be all right", he said in a rather loud voice to calm the rookie down before handing him the card. "There you go; this is your ID card. Make sure you return it before leaving."
"Thank you sir! Thanks a lot!” Kritin said, carefully placing the strap of the ID card (which seemed to be just a torn piece of paper with an oil stain on it) around his neck while being ushered into the compound by another guard.
"Please take the first right from the atrium to reach the conference room next to the cafeteria", the second guard informed Kritin, who nodded and set out towards the main entrance at a rapid clip.
"Hope I haven't missed anything! What if the HR shouts at me in front of everyone and asks me to leave!?” Kritin thought. His heartbeat seemed to double with every step he took towards the sliding doors. He silently cursed his roommate at the hotel whose extended shower had set into motion the series of events that led to the missed bus and all the agonizing events that followed.
Slightly out of breath, he paused at the door to compose himself, running his fingers through his hair and straightening his jacket. The door slid open to reveal a huge atrium with hardly any people in sight. With no time to marvel at the impressive decor, he scampered to the corridor on the right and crossed it as fast as he could without looking like he was running. All the rooms seemed to be empty!
Maybe he had misheard the guard's instructions. On the brink of an all-out panic attack, he turned to rush back to the gate. That's when he noticed the board with "Conference Room" written on it, winking at him from the middle of the corridor. In his rush he must have went past it without noticing.
"Silly me", Kritin thought, feeling mightily relieved and smiling a little.
However, there was still the matter of getting past the HR to be taken care of. Trying hard to bring his breathing under control, Kritin moved towards the door. Now that he was so close to the room, he could hear sounds of laughter and banter. Kritin gulped. There seemed to be a lot of people in there. He was not at his best in front of large groups of strangers. In fact, he was usually at his worst in such situations! But no matter what, it had to be done. He steeled himself and pushed the door open hard. Apparently the push was a little too hard. He nearly flew into the room and ran smack into the back of a tall, pony-tailed guy standing right next to the door. He heard laughter as he got up, feeling faint and wondering why on earth the company would allow guys to keep such long hair (pony tails even!) in office.
The "guy" turned around and swept back some loose strands of hair hanging in front of her eyes irritably.
"Dude, do watch where you are going!” she snarled at him.
Kritin stood with his mouth open for a few moments before whispering a barely audible apology. It was clearly not enough to appease the girl, who glared at him for a few seconds before turning away haughtily and resuming her conversation with her friend who was still giggling.
Embarrassed and feeling humiliated, Kritin had a quick glance at the room. It was a fairly large, featureless room with a whiteboard and a podium at one end and a large number of chairs occupying the rest of the room. While some people were still snickering and looking in his direction (damn them!), most of the junta had moved back to their conversations. There seemed to be no HR in sight.
"Well at least that's a consolation", Kritin thought.
Some of the chairs in the middle seemed to be empty, so he started to move towards them.
"Hey dude! Come and sit with us."
Kritin searched for the source of the voice. He saw a guy sitting in the last row waving at him. He did not seem particularly well-dressed. Kritin would have preferred not to accept his invitation but he knew nobody in the entire batch and this seemed to be a good opportunity to network with some would-be colleagues. Grudgingly he changed directions and walked towards the last row. As he came closer he could see that the last row seemed to be occupied by a group of four people, including the guy who had hailed him. Two of them shifted to free a seat in the middle of their group. Kritin reached the seat and sat down, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting next to complete strangers.
"Hi, I am Prachur", the original hailer introduced himself.
"Hello. My name is Kritin", Kritin responded.
The rest of them decided to do away with the excessive pleasantries and just grunted their names.
"Nikku"
"Kardick"
"Meechu"
"So how was it?” Prachur asked somewhat eagerly.
"Er...how was what?” Kritin enquired, taken aback by this sudden query.
"Oh come on! You just collided with that totally hot chick, Priyu. How did it feel?” Nikku exploded.
Kritin felt his ears reddening.
"How can you talk like that about a colleague!” he retorted angrily.
The group seemed to let out a collective sigh.
"Ooh, you are that type!” exclaimed Kardick. He seemed deeply disappointed.
"Type? What does type have to do with anything? I just respect all my colleagues equally. You all should too!” Kritin said angrily.
"All right, all right...chill bro!", Meechu said. He seemed to be the most reasonable guy in this group. No wonder he was the most formally dressed as well. Kritin flashed him a weak smile.
"Which campus are you from anyway?” Prachur asked, still looking a little put off.
"Well-known Management Institute in North India (WKMINI)", Kritin replied, straightening his jacket a bit.
"What about you guys?” he asked in turn.
"We are all from Well-known Management Institute in South India (WKMISI)", Meechu said.
"Aren't there two well-known Management Institutes in South India?” Kritin enquired.
"Nope, just one", said Prachur.
Although he was a little confused by the reply, Kritin decided not to ask any more questions regarding this. He suddenly remembered that the Induction was supposed to begin at 9:30 AM. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly 10:30 AM!
"Say, did you guys meet any HR people when you reached the office?” he asked the others.
"Just some loser who chided us for being late and said we had to wait here", Prachur replied, craning his neck to look in the direction of Priyu and her friends.
"Quite surprising. Forget welcoming us to the company, nobody has even bothered to come and meet us for an hour! Aren't we the highly regarded Management Trainees of this institution?” Kritin exclaimed with an air of importance about him.
The others burst out laughing so hard that quite a few heads in the room turned to look at the source of such a loud report of laughter.
“Sshhhh! What the hell!?” Kritin hissed as loudly as he dared to, completely mystified by this reaction.
Meechu, who seemed the only one capable of normal speech (because all others were too busy doubling up and wiping their eyes), tried to explain.
“Who told you we were Management Trainees?” he asked, his speech interspersed with fits of laughter.
Kritin’s eyes widened with shock.
“What? What else are we supposed to be then?” he ventured.
Prachur, who had finally succeeded in controlling his laughter, answered.
(Rest in the next entry, this was getting too long to read at one go...not to mention to write in a single stretch!)
"Yes?” the Security Guard asked as he looked up and saw the impeccably dressed, clean-shaven young man standing next to the window with an anxious look on his face.
He seemed to have chosen his clothes after going through the first chapter of "Business Attire for Dummies". He was sporting a no-frills, funeral black formal suit with what appeared to be a blindingly white shirt peering out, accompanied by a no-nonsense red tie. Everything about his attire screamed formal (or I-try-too-hard-to-please, depending on your way of looking at things). Unfortunately, the intended effect was spoiled by the fact that the poor guy looked a little pale and was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Er...sorry to disturb you. Ummm, I am a n-n-new joinee", was all that Kritin managed to say.
The Guard smiled knowingly. "Ah yes", he thought, "I should have recognized the symptoms."
The overtly formal and immaculate clothing, the anxiety, the paleness...everything matched the stereotype. He hadn't known too many who shook so much though.
"All new joinees came to the office together a little while back. Where were you?” the Guard asked in order to make conversation while he searched for a spare ID card holder. Bad move, he realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth. The guy turned even paler (which did not seem possible a few moments ago) and started blurting out excuses.
"I m-missed the bus because it was raining and there were too many people on the sidewalk so I couldn't reach the bus in time and I almost fell into the gutter..."
He would have gone on and on but the guard stopped him right there.
"Ok ok fine. It is all going to be all right", he said in a rather loud voice to calm the rookie down before handing him the card. "There you go; this is your ID card. Make sure you return it before leaving."
"Thank you sir! Thanks a lot!” Kritin said, carefully placing the strap of the ID card (which seemed to be just a torn piece of paper with an oil stain on it) around his neck while being ushered into the compound by another guard.
"Please take the first right from the atrium to reach the conference room next to the cafeteria", the second guard informed Kritin, who nodded and set out towards the main entrance at a rapid clip.
"Hope I haven't missed anything! What if the HR shouts at me in front of everyone and asks me to leave!?” Kritin thought. His heartbeat seemed to double with every step he took towards the sliding doors. He silently cursed his roommate at the hotel whose extended shower had set into motion the series of events that led to the missed bus and all the agonizing events that followed.
Slightly out of breath, he paused at the door to compose himself, running his fingers through his hair and straightening his jacket. The door slid open to reveal a huge atrium with hardly any people in sight. With no time to marvel at the impressive decor, he scampered to the corridor on the right and crossed it as fast as he could without looking like he was running. All the rooms seemed to be empty!
Maybe he had misheard the guard's instructions. On the brink of an all-out panic attack, he turned to rush back to the gate. That's when he noticed the board with "Conference Room" written on it, winking at him from the middle of the corridor. In his rush he must have went past it without noticing.
"Silly me", Kritin thought, feeling mightily relieved and smiling a little.
However, there was still the matter of getting past the HR to be taken care of. Trying hard to bring his breathing under control, Kritin moved towards the door. Now that he was so close to the room, he could hear sounds of laughter and banter. Kritin gulped. There seemed to be a lot of people in there. He was not at his best in front of large groups of strangers. In fact, he was usually at his worst in such situations! But no matter what, it had to be done. He steeled himself and pushed the door open hard. Apparently the push was a little too hard. He nearly flew into the room and ran smack into the back of a tall, pony-tailed guy standing right next to the door. He heard laughter as he got up, feeling faint and wondering why on earth the company would allow guys to keep such long hair (pony tails even!) in office.
The "guy" turned around and swept back some loose strands of hair hanging in front of her eyes irritably.
"Dude, do watch where you are going!” she snarled at him.
Kritin stood with his mouth open for a few moments before whispering a barely audible apology. It was clearly not enough to appease the girl, who glared at him for a few seconds before turning away haughtily and resuming her conversation with her friend who was still giggling.
Embarrassed and feeling humiliated, Kritin had a quick glance at the room. It was a fairly large, featureless room with a whiteboard and a podium at one end and a large number of chairs occupying the rest of the room. While some people were still snickering and looking in his direction (damn them!), most of the junta had moved back to their conversations. There seemed to be no HR in sight.
"Well at least that's a consolation", Kritin thought.
Some of the chairs in the middle seemed to be empty, so he started to move towards them.
"Hey dude! Come and sit with us."
Kritin searched for the source of the voice. He saw a guy sitting in the last row waving at him. He did not seem particularly well-dressed. Kritin would have preferred not to accept his invitation but he knew nobody in the entire batch and this seemed to be a good opportunity to network with some would-be colleagues. Grudgingly he changed directions and walked towards the last row. As he came closer he could see that the last row seemed to be occupied by a group of four people, including the guy who had hailed him. Two of them shifted to free a seat in the middle of their group. Kritin reached the seat and sat down, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting next to complete strangers.
"Hi, I am Prachur", the original hailer introduced himself.
"Hello. My name is Kritin", Kritin responded.
The rest of them decided to do away with the excessive pleasantries and just grunted their names.
"Nikku"
"Kardick"
"Meechu"
"So how was it?” Prachur asked somewhat eagerly.
"Er...how was what?” Kritin enquired, taken aback by this sudden query.
"Oh come on! You just collided with that totally hot chick, Priyu. How did it feel?” Nikku exploded.
Kritin felt his ears reddening.
"How can you talk like that about a colleague!” he retorted angrily.
The group seemed to let out a collective sigh.
"Ooh, you are that type!” exclaimed Kardick. He seemed deeply disappointed.
"Type? What does type have to do with anything? I just respect all my colleagues equally. You all should too!” Kritin said angrily.
"All right, all right...chill bro!", Meechu said. He seemed to be the most reasonable guy in this group. No wonder he was the most formally dressed as well. Kritin flashed him a weak smile.
"Which campus are you from anyway?” Prachur asked, still looking a little put off.
"Well-known Management Institute in North India (WKMINI)", Kritin replied, straightening his jacket a bit.
"What about you guys?” he asked in turn.
"We are all from Well-known Management Institute in South India (WKMISI)", Meechu said.
"Aren't there two well-known Management Institutes in South India?” Kritin enquired.
"Nope, just one", said Prachur.
Although he was a little confused by the reply, Kritin decided not to ask any more questions regarding this. He suddenly remembered that the Induction was supposed to begin at 9:30 AM. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly 10:30 AM!
"Say, did you guys meet any HR people when you reached the office?” he asked the others.
"Just some loser who chided us for being late and said we had to wait here", Prachur replied, craning his neck to look in the direction of Priyu and her friends.
"Quite surprising. Forget welcoming us to the company, nobody has even bothered to come and meet us for an hour! Aren't we the highly regarded Management Trainees of this institution?” Kritin exclaimed with an air of importance about him.
The others burst out laughing so hard that quite a few heads in the room turned to look at the source of such a loud report of laughter.
“Sshhhh! What the hell!?” Kritin hissed as loudly as he dared to, completely mystified by this reaction.
Meechu, who seemed the only one capable of normal speech (because all others were too busy doubling up and wiping their eyes), tried to explain.
“Who told you we were Management Trainees?” he asked, his speech interspersed with fits of laughter.
Kritin’s eyes widened with shock.
“What? What else are we supposed to be then?” he ventured.
Prachur, who had finally succeeded in controlling his laughter, answered.
(Rest in the next entry, this was getting too long to read at one go...not to mention to write in a single stretch!)
Monday, May 17, 2010
In Limbo
What the hell is going on? I am stuck here, with no hope of escape, and I can’t even remember how I got here! What is this place? Am I even alive? There seems to be no shortage of questions in my mind but there are no answers to be found here. I am here in this large, sprawling space which somehow appears to be as unbearably restrictive as a straitjacket. I find it difficult to even think about anything beyond my immediate need for freedom. It is so strange that it seems impossible, yet I can see and feel it happening. I can move my arms and legs and head with ease. I can walk, run, jump and fall. Still it feels like I am confined so completely that I am nearly drowning in the fear that comes with such forced, complete immobility. My freedom of movement, the running and jumping, all seem wholly inadequate. Is this an illusion so perfect that I have no choice but believe it? Why do I feel so suffocated, constrained, helpless when I am in the middle of what seems to be the largest stretch of uninhibited open desert landscape that I ever laid my eyes on? Perhaps this is Hell. Or maybe this is life. All I know for sure is that there is no escape. In such brief periods of contemplation and conscience I feel a deep gratitude for the acute, continuous fear and suffering because they keep me from dwelling on these dangerous thoughts for long and make me forget soon after that there is no end to this…that this is my fate for all eternity.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Overtly Mental Too a.k.a. OM 2
Is he mad
Or just insane?
Maybe he is sad
And in a lot of pain.
He hears the unspoken well
And ignores any real sound,
After all he's in hell
Where beasts like us abound.
(Let's hear his side of the story)
People with such bad upbringings
They have the nerve to say.
"Bastard, bastard, bastard!"
There will be hell to pay!
This place has gone to the dogs
It gets worse every day.
If it was up to me,
I would shut it down today.
(The bottom line)
Alas, those times,
Those days will be missed.
Sitting still in the class
Hoping not to be noticed.
Ciao Professore!
Or just insane?
Maybe he is sad
And in a lot of pain.
He hears the unspoken well
And ignores any real sound,
After all he's in hell
Where beasts like us abound.
(Let's hear his side of the story)
People with such bad upbringings
They have the nerve to say.
"Bastard, bastard, bastard!"
There will be hell to pay!
This place has gone to the dogs
It gets worse every day.
If it was up to me,
I would shut it down today.
(The bottom line)
Alas, those times,
Those days will be missed.
Sitting still in the class
Hoping not to be noticed.
Ciao Professore!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Entombed: Catch and Release?
The sudden, loud clanging woke him up. He looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise. Everything seemed still. As he shook himself awake, he noticed that something was different today. The place was even quieter than usual.
His wandering eyes came to rest on the door. He sat up and stared, his heartbeat quickening. It was not possible! Getting to his feet, he shuffled slowly towards the door. He tried not to get too excited, after all it HAD to be a trick that his eyes were playing. But as he reached the door and pushed it hesitantly, it gave way. The unthinkable had happened! The creaking of the rusted hinges seemed to be the sweetest sound he had heard in his life. It also sounded too loud in the prevailing silence. His instincts warned him to make as little noise as possible.
He stood stunned for a few moments before stepping out into the dark passage outside. Suddenly everything seemed intimidating...the ceiling seemed too far up, the walls too far apart. He leaned against the door while an overwhelming wave of nausea almost made him faint. How long had it been since he had seen anything outside the maddening cube of captivity, his own cell? 10 years? 20? It was impossible to tell.
The door of the cell facing his own was open, swaying back and forth gently. Where had the others gone? The silence was unnerving. He used to think his cell was dark, but until now he had never realized what real darkness meant. The passage seemed to extend endlessly in both directions, but there could be a brick wall at an arm's length and he would never know it. Tha dark passage and the absolute silence made him feel that he was blind, deaf and exposed. Even the air seemed stale and heavy with moisture. He could barely control his shivering, brought on by the drop in temperature and dampness of the passage.
He thought, "This is not freedom. No, it's just the beginning."
His wandering eyes came to rest on the door. He sat up and stared, his heartbeat quickening. It was not possible! Getting to his feet, he shuffled slowly towards the door. He tried not to get too excited, after all it HAD to be a trick that his eyes were playing. But as he reached the door and pushed it hesitantly, it gave way. The unthinkable had happened! The creaking of the rusted hinges seemed to be the sweetest sound he had heard in his life. It also sounded too loud in the prevailing silence. His instincts warned him to make as little noise as possible.
He stood stunned for a few moments before stepping out into the dark passage outside. Suddenly everything seemed intimidating...the ceiling seemed too far up, the walls too far apart. He leaned against the door while an overwhelming wave of nausea almost made him faint. How long had it been since he had seen anything outside the maddening cube of captivity, his own cell? 10 years? 20? It was impossible to tell.
The door of the cell facing his own was open, swaying back and forth gently. Where had the others gone? The silence was unnerving. He used to think his cell was dark, but until now he had never realized what real darkness meant. The passage seemed to extend endlessly in both directions, but there could be a brick wall at an arm's length and he would never know it. Tha dark passage and the absolute silence made him feel that he was blind, deaf and exposed. Even the air seemed stale and heavy with moisture. He could barely control his shivering, brought on by the drop in temperature and dampness of the passage.
He thought, "This is not freedom. No, it's just the beginning."
Friday, January 29, 2010
Moving up in life?
People often talk about how we have lesser and lesser time for ourselves these days. If we take more than just a moment to think about the change in our lives, the extent of this change might be a big surprise. Maybe this doesn't hold for everyone, but I was astounded when I gave it some thought.
A case in point...a typical railway crossing in Lucknow. There is this gated crossing that one comes across while traveling from Hazratganj towards Cantt. The person who operates this particular gate really enjoys closing it at least 30 minutes before the train is anywhere in the vicinity of the crossing. It seems unlikely that the same person has been operating the gate for all these years, but if somebody else took over then he/she has the same modus operandi. As a consequence if the gate closes in ur face just as ur speeding towards the crossing in desperation, u can expect a long, leisurely wait.
I remember that when I was a school-going kid (I am talking 4th/5th standard here), we used to get stuck often at this crossing. Usually this happened while returning from our (more or less) weekly family trips to Hazratganj. I distinctly recall dad killing the engine, then him or me (usually him, since I was a lazy bum even then) going to this bhel-puri wala guy (who was always there) to get us some of that awesome stuff. We would all settle down for some together time...chat and joke around till we heard the whistle, which meant the train would pass the crossing in 5 minutes or so. At this point everyone would settle down in their "passenger positions", dad would have the engine running and we would start off as soon as the gate started rising. This happened so often that I have a clear memory of those times even now.
Now what happens? Everyone (including us) takes an alternate, crossing-less route which takes u via an overbridge, though it is a couple of kilometers longer. No stopping, no pointless conversation, no bhel-puri. The alternate route was always there, but in earlier years very few would mind waiting for some 30 minutes. In fact, I believe a lot of people cherished that idle time. I know I did. How often do u get opportunities when u don't HAVE to do anything, when u can actually lie back?
Probably it is the influence of a majority of families having less time and more money, an inevitable outcome of the rat race that has been on for several generations now. As quite a few people have already observed, we as a nation (at least the relatively privileged part of it) seem to be moving towards prosperity at the cost of true happiness and satisfaction. Is it worth it? I don't know, but I hope it is...because we sure are sacrificing a lot.
A case in point...a typical railway crossing in Lucknow. There is this gated crossing that one comes across while traveling from Hazratganj towards Cantt. The person who operates this particular gate really enjoys closing it at least 30 minutes before the train is anywhere in the vicinity of the crossing. It seems unlikely that the same person has been operating the gate for all these years, but if somebody else took over then he/she has the same modus operandi. As a consequence if the gate closes in ur face just as ur speeding towards the crossing in desperation, u can expect a long, leisurely wait.
I remember that when I was a school-going kid (I am talking 4th/5th standard here), we used to get stuck often at this crossing. Usually this happened while returning from our (more or less) weekly family trips to Hazratganj. I distinctly recall dad killing the engine, then him or me (usually him, since I was a lazy bum even then) going to this bhel-puri wala guy (who was always there) to get us some of that awesome stuff. We would all settle down for some together time...chat and joke around till we heard the whistle, which meant the train would pass the crossing in 5 minutes or so. At this point everyone would settle down in their "passenger positions", dad would have the engine running and we would start off as soon as the gate started rising. This happened so often that I have a clear memory of those times even now.
Now what happens? Everyone (including us) takes an alternate, crossing-less route which takes u via an overbridge, though it is a couple of kilometers longer. No stopping, no pointless conversation, no bhel-puri. The alternate route was always there, but in earlier years very few would mind waiting for some 30 minutes. In fact, I believe a lot of people cherished that idle time. I know I did. How often do u get opportunities when u don't HAVE to do anything, when u can actually lie back?
Probably it is the influence of a majority of families having less time and more money, an inevitable outcome of the rat race that has been on for several generations now. As quite a few people have already observed, we as a nation (at least the relatively privileged part of it) seem to be moving towards prosperity at the cost of true happiness and satisfaction. Is it worth it? I don't know, but I hope it is...because we sure are sacrificing a lot.
Friday, July 17, 2009
The Last Question
It is July 2003 and the hot, dry North Indian summer is resplendent in all its glory. A drop of sweat makes its slow, meandering way down my forehead. The sharp and bright light of the mid-noon sun lends a surreal quality to the landscape, accompanied by an almost unnatural silence that one only witnesses during summer afternoons. It is my first day in college and after the mind-boggling dose of advanced mathematics and physics I am trying to sleep away my apprehensions. Lying in the bed and staring at the elderly fan fighting a losing battle does not seem to help me ignore the sweltering heat which is driving away my sleep. On the opposite side of the room, Himanshu is tossing and turning in his bed, also unable to fall asleep, seemingly searching for a magical posture which will render the heat ineffective. The eerie silence is broken only by the fan's groans as it reluctantly continues on its unending journey, occasionally interspersed with sounds of hammering and drilling, signaling that construction work is going on somewhere just outside the hostel. Himanshu turns towards me, notices that I am awake and vents his frustration by exclaiming "B*******d, kitni garmi hai!". I snap out of my reverie and ask him something that I was idly wondering about during the lecture.
"How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"
Himanshu looks at me for a second like he fears for my sanity, then just shrugs and says, "Abhi bahut time hai be", before turning away to resume his futile quest for sleep.
It is a cold morning in January 2005 and a bone-chilling wind is blowing across the deserted corridor. Aayush and me are crossing a particularly cold section of the corridor, surrounded by open space and where broad leaves of the huge mango trees keep away the feeble sunlight. Both of us shiver at the perceptible drop in temperature and start walking faster to reach the relative warmth of our rooms before we succumb to frostbite. Barely able to control his shivering, Aayush swears loudly at nobody in particular.
As we turn the corner and come within striking distance of the room we make a run for it...bursting unceremoniously into the room which feels gloriously warm after our cold forage outside for breakfast. Aayush immediately jumps into the bed and entombs himself in the multitude of quilts lying on the bed. KP is not there in the room, perhaps gone out for one of his torturous trekking prep camps, so I feel free to wrap the quilts lying on his bed around me. While Aayush tries to maneuver the mouse and keyboard without having to force his hands out of the safety of the quilt, I think about how relaxed life is. It reminds me of the thought I had a long time back and I ask him, "How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"
He pauses for a moment as if to think about it, then says, "Jab hoga tab pata chal jayega, abhi to 2 saal hain." I nod in agreement, though I am not quite sure that he is looking in my direction because his head is tucked deep inside the bowels of the quilt. He starts watching Snatch which I have already seen thrice so I decide to leave.
It is an overcast afternoon in August 2006, and Mehra and me are returning from a unbelievably boring lab session. After staring at the confusing gauges in the stifling heat of the Mechanical lab for over 2 hours, the refreshing breeze blowing across the large, open space next to the library feels amazingly good. Wanting to enjoy the view afforded by the dim sunlight resulting from the heavily overcast sky, we walk slower than usual. Of course with Mehra it is usually hard to differentiate between walking and running, so even "walking slowly" for him is essentially walking like somebody close to winning a marathon...someone who is tired but the sight of the finish line is driving him to go for one last burst of speed. We pass a couple of peacocks pecking hopefully at the ground. The peacocks in our campus must be special because somehow they rarely seemed interested in dancing in the rainy season. A dazzling flash followed by a rather loud report of thunder gets us walking a little faster; neither of us is keen to get soaked again after the morning dash to LHC while braving a heavy downpour. By the time we reach LHC it has started raining again. We decide to wait out the rain this time, after all we can sleep to our hearts content once we get back to our rooms (oh how I miss my college!). While standing under the dreaded L6 Mehra expends his frustration by chastising the lab assistant in his usual fashion, using words that most guys stop using after 4th standard.
"Wo saala TA! Meri readings 3-3 baar check kar raha tha, kutta kamina kahin ka!"
I laugh, both at his language and the gesticulations that accompany it. After a bout of silence I decide to ask him.
"How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"
"Le, bahut khushi hogi, aur kya", he replies and follows it up with a description of what his celebrations on that day would consist of.
I suppose it is better than a nonchalant reply, although I am pretty sure it will not be a happy day for me or for a majority of batch-mates. However, Mehra's indifference bordering on dislike for the campus life is well-known to all of us and so the answer does not surprise me. I mumble something to show that I am listening while I think how would the prospect of leaving behind a relaxed, enjoyable life with close friends surrounding you 24 hrs a day sounds. The day we leave will unquestionably be a sad day for most of us...but I was curious to know how would it feel, how would I look at things that I have grown used to seeing every day and probably will not see again for a very, very long time (if at all); how would I feel when I wave goodbye to people with whom I have spent four of the best years of my life!
It is a warm, sunny morning in June 2007 and the sky is a beautiful light blue. It is too early in the day for the full brunt of the summer heat to be unleashed, but it is already sweltering hot. The hostel is quiet, with a majority of parents having left with the students after the convo. After a couple of days of hectic activity...meeting and greeting parents of friends, packing, attending the rehearsal and actual convo...I feel drained as I carry my sole remaining piece of luggage to the hostel gate. Himanshu is walking beside me and is uncharacteristically quiet. We both look around, hoping to see someone to whom we did not say goodbye yet, but there is nobody to be seen. The hostel wears an abandoned look, with the long corridors almost silent, the only sound being that of the currents of warm air swooshing through them.
The wide, clean road (so unlike roads in Kanpur city) is almost devoid of any traffic. Sunlight, filtering through the leaves of the numerous, overhanging branches, makes a continuous, criss-crossing pattern on the road. Sitting in the rickshaw, I take in all the familiar sights as we move leisurely past them...the academic area, SAC, Shop-C, Park 67. I know now how it feels, the final parting, and I can guess from his mild expression that Himanshu is experiencing a similar feeling. The last question remains unasked, but I finally have the answer...
"How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"
Himanshu looks at me for a second like he fears for my sanity, then just shrugs and says, "Abhi bahut time hai be", before turning away to resume his futile quest for sleep.
It is a cold morning in January 2005 and a bone-chilling wind is blowing across the deserted corridor. Aayush and me are crossing a particularly cold section of the corridor, surrounded by open space and where broad leaves of the huge mango trees keep away the feeble sunlight. Both of us shiver at the perceptible drop in temperature and start walking faster to reach the relative warmth of our rooms before we succumb to frostbite. Barely able to control his shivering, Aayush swears loudly at nobody in particular.
As we turn the corner and come within striking distance of the room we make a run for it...bursting unceremoniously into the room which feels gloriously warm after our cold forage outside for breakfast. Aayush immediately jumps into the bed and entombs himself in the multitude of quilts lying on the bed. KP is not there in the room, perhaps gone out for one of his torturous trekking prep camps, so I feel free to wrap the quilts lying on his bed around me. While Aayush tries to maneuver the mouse and keyboard without having to force his hands out of the safety of the quilt, I think about how relaxed life is. It reminds me of the thought I had a long time back and I ask him, "How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"
He pauses for a moment as if to think about it, then says, "Jab hoga tab pata chal jayega, abhi to 2 saal hain." I nod in agreement, though I am not quite sure that he is looking in my direction because his head is tucked deep inside the bowels of the quilt. He starts watching Snatch which I have already seen thrice so I decide to leave.
It is an overcast afternoon in August 2006, and Mehra and me are returning from a unbelievably boring lab session. After staring at the confusing gauges in the stifling heat of the Mechanical lab for over 2 hours, the refreshing breeze blowing across the large, open space next to the library feels amazingly good. Wanting to enjoy the view afforded by the dim sunlight resulting from the heavily overcast sky, we walk slower than usual. Of course with Mehra it is usually hard to differentiate between walking and running, so even "walking slowly" for him is essentially walking like somebody close to winning a marathon...someone who is tired but the sight of the finish line is driving him to go for one last burst of speed. We pass a couple of peacocks pecking hopefully at the ground. The peacocks in our campus must be special because somehow they rarely seemed interested in dancing in the rainy season. A dazzling flash followed by a rather loud report of thunder gets us walking a little faster; neither of us is keen to get soaked again after the morning dash to LHC while braving a heavy downpour. By the time we reach LHC it has started raining again. We decide to wait out the rain this time, after all we can sleep to our hearts content once we get back to our rooms (oh how I miss my college!). While standing under the dreaded L6 Mehra expends his frustration by chastising the lab assistant in his usual fashion, using words that most guys stop using after 4th standard.
"Wo saala TA! Meri readings 3-3 baar check kar raha tha, kutta kamina kahin ka!"
I laugh, both at his language and the gesticulations that accompany it. After a bout of silence I decide to ask him.
"How do you suppose it would feel to leave this place after graduation?"
"Le, bahut khushi hogi, aur kya", he replies and follows it up with a description of what his celebrations on that day would consist of.
I suppose it is better than a nonchalant reply, although I am pretty sure it will not be a happy day for me or for a majority of batch-mates. However, Mehra's indifference bordering on dislike for the campus life is well-known to all of us and so the answer does not surprise me. I mumble something to show that I am listening while I think how would the prospect of leaving behind a relaxed, enjoyable life with close friends surrounding you 24 hrs a day sounds. The day we leave will unquestionably be a sad day for most of us...but I was curious to know how would it feel, how would I look at things that I have grown used to seeing every day and probably will not see again for a very, very long time (if at all); how would I feel when I wave goodbye to people with whom I have spent four of the best years of my life!
It is a warm, sunny morning in June 2007 and the sky is a beautiful light blue. It is too early in the day for the full brunt of the summer heat to be unleashed, but it is already sweltering hot. The hostel is quiet, with a majority of parents having left with the students after the convo. After a couple of days of hectic activity...meeting and greeting parents of friends, packing, attending the rehearsal and actual convo...I feel drained as I carry my sole remaining piece of luggage to the hostel gate. Himanshu is walking beside me and is uncharacteristically quiet. We both look around, hoping to see someone to whom we did not say goodbye yet, but there is nobody to be seen. The hostel wears an abandoned look, with the long corridors almost silent, the only sound being that of the currents of warm air swooshing through them.
The wide, clean road (so unlike roads in Kanpur city) is almost devoid of any traffic. Sunlight, filtering through the leaves of the numerous, overhanging branches, makes a continuous, criss-crossing pattern on the road. Sitting in the rickshaw, I take in all the familiar sights as we move leisurely past them...the academic area, SAC, Shop-C, Park 67. I know now how it feels, the final parting, and I can guess from his mild expression that Himanshu is experiencing a similar feeling. The last question remains unasked, but I finally have the answer...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
A bloody mess indeed!
Everybody who has ever lived in a hostel knows that the most painful part of hostel life is the mess food. Since I had barely survived the chow doled out in the hostel mess at IITK (with severe psychological and physiological scarring to show for it!), I was really apprehensive about the 'delicacies' that I would be subjected to in the mess at IIMK. Add to it the fact that this college was nearly 2,400 kilometers from my native city and, consequently, located in a totally different gastronomical belt...to say that I was dreading my first meal in the mess would be an understatement. Here's how it unraveled...
Day I
Typical North Indian fare!!! I was pleasantly surprised...even appreciated the meal, reasonably palatable. And a nice dessert to cap the meal too, maybe life here won't be so bad after all!
Day II
Hmmm...what is this weird dish on the menu today? Lemme try it...
Aaaarggghhhhhh!!!
Day III
OMFG...do they have leftovers from yesterday??? They must have some left, they MUST!
Day IV
Why didn't I die before trying this!?
.
.
Day VIII
How the hell did I LIKE this on Day I! F**k...
.
.
Present day
F**k...
P.S: Let us take a moment to thank the greatest establishment in (almost) every campus, the eternal savior of the famished, the disgusted and the late night vigilantes...the CANTEEN!
Day I
Typical North Indian fare!!! I was pleasantly surprised...even appreciated the meal, reasonably palatable. And a nice dessert to cap the meal too, maybe life here won't be so bad after all!
Day II
Hmmm...what is this weird dish on the menu today? Lemme try it...
Aaaarggghhhhhh!!!
Day III
OMFG...do they have leftovers from yesterday??? They must have some left, they MUST!
Day IV
Why didn't I die before trying this!?
.
.
Day VIII
How the hell did I LIKE this on Day I! F**k...
.
.
Present day
F**k...
P.S: Let us take a moment to thank the greatest establishment in (almost) every campus, the eternal savior of the famished, the disgusted and the late night vigilantes...the CANTEEN!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Anomaly
Adi almost fell off his chair. Rohi had to stifle a cry of amazement. Himan hardly moved a muscle, yet his eyes betrayed the emotions of shock and pure incredulity rising within him, forcing his brain into a state of wakefulness. Guls, on the other hand, stared at "The Source" with his eyes wide open, mouth agape. Others seemed too far away from consciousness to note "The Anomaly"...however, the intensity of it all was too strong to be ignored. All around me, people were stirring, disoriented and numb, as they returned from their foray into the Land of Nod. A slight rustle filled the room, one that accompanies a large number of bodies either stretching or striving for more comfortable resting positions."The Source", meanwhile, continued with the propagation of "The Anomaly", apparently unaware of the sea change occurring around him. It was good that he remained ignorant of his surroundings...because had he glanced at the multitude of half-open eyes staring at him in amazement, he might have stopped dead in his tracks.
Eventually, someone articulated the thought crossing everybody's mind, albeit in the form of a whisper..."What the f**k, he asked a question in a MIS lecture!!!"
Eventually, someone articulated the thought crossing everybody's mind, albeit in the form of a whisper..."What the f**k, he asked a question in a MIS lecture!!!"
Saturday, August 16, 2008
I'm going to K!
I had a feeling that the day was going to be good. Woke up nice and fresh (nearly 9 hours of sleep...bliss!), went through the daily rituals of getting ready for office, reached office in a good mood! Logged on to IIMC's website to check the result. After a wait of 10 seconds or so..."Your name does not appear in the list of selected candidates or the waitlisted candidates."
Heartbeat quickens, but still sure that I made a mistake in entering the details, I go back to the previous page and enter them again, more deliberately this time. Again the same dreaded message!
The world slows down around me...heartbeat rises further, mind goes numb..."Jeez! What now?"
I check the result at least 8 times that day, hoping against hope that there had been a mistake, I must have done something wrong earlier.
Eventually look at other results, no go in IIMA (as if I didn't know), waitlisted in IIMI, got through IIMK! Something to ponder about...
I went at 11 PM, feeling confused and a little insecure. Probably one of the most important decisions of my life (right up there with "whether to buy a PSP!") lay ahead...join this year or wait for next year.
Over the next several days, asked loads of people about joining that year or not...got mostly positive opinions, along with the profound but practically useless statement - "Ultimately it is your own decision that matters!". Tried to sit alone at home and think; tried visiting the mall and sitting among the milling (or mall-ing, whatever) crowd..waiting for the mythical bolt of enlightenment to strike me. No success...
How did I finally decide? Hard to say how the decision was made, may be the fact that I did not want to go through the horrible GD/PI phase again was drilled in my subconscious...but what happened was perhaps akin to the Kekule and Ouroboros incident! Still undecided, I went to sleep one night and woke up the next day with a crystal clear thought, "I'm going to K!".
Heartbeat quickens, but still sure that I made a mistake in entering the details, I go back to the previous page and enter them again, more deliberately this time. Again the same dreaded message!
The world slows down around me...heartbeat rises further, mind goes numb..."Jeez! What now?"
I check the result at least 8 times that day, hoping against hope that there had been a mistake, I must have done something wrong earlier.
Eventually look at other results, no go in IIMA (as if I didn't know), waitlisted in IIMI, got through IIMK! Something to ponder about...
I went at 11 PM, feeling confused and a little insecure. Probably one of the most important decisions of my life (right up there with "whether to buy a PSP!") lay ahead...join this year or wait for next year.
Over the next several days, asked loads of people about joining that year or not...got mostly positive opinions, along with the profound but practically useless statement - "Ultimately it is your own decision that matters!". Tried to sit alone at home and think; tried visiting the mall and sitting among the milling (or mall-ing, whatever) crowd..waiting for the mythical bolt of enlightenment to strike me. No success...
How did I finally decide? Hard to say how the decision was made, may be the fact that I did not want to go through the horrible GD/PI phase again was drilled in my subconscious...but what happened was perhaps akin to the Kekule and Ouroboros incident! Still undecided, I went to sleep one night and woke up the next day with a crystal clear thought, "I'm going to K!".
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