Tuesday, August 31, 2010
I reached the bus stop to find a damsel in distress. She was a beauty to look and stare (although she is the one we guys loved to bitch about). I presumed that a beauty at the bus stop is a good sign from the heavens and we set out to office together.
I reached office to find that even half weren’t in the Mundu. And no one was in a mood to celebrate too.
We have a peculiar term used by our leaders- ‘Fun @ Work’. If we indulge in any sort of fun that doesn’t mean any exemption or shortage in work. So the wise men avoid the late nights at office and keep away from any sort of Fun @ Work.
A good thing with the modernization and liberalization is that the traditional attire gave way to ‘civilized’ and comfortable dress. But no western wear can arouse a man as much as a traditional wear. So these days are a kind of liberation for us guys, who get quite bored seeing the regular salwar kameez and western formals. So men run around with cameras pretending to enjoy the intricate designs of pookkalam, when they are furiously clicking away all the femme fatale. These photo sessions are illegal by the law, but women too love to be appreciated, don’t they?
‘Attrition’ is some phenomenon the entire Indian IT industry suffered from. The industry is in dire shortage of skilled people. So they lure them with greater pay hike. This is a never ending vicious cycle as long as there is a human vice called greed. Ours was a company who suffered badly from it. There were few familiar faces around and fewer prettier faces too. The crooks had emptied out our good looking women.
After a day of roaming, I came back to my seat to get this message.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
At this time of year every school, college and institution sets apart a day to celebrate. The men arrive adorned in Mundu and women in Kasavu saris. Then a floral decoration is made and called pookkalam.
I had the celebration at the gym and the office on the same day. Our instructor, Nixon, requested, cajoled and threatened everyone for their contributions. Many fished from the purses but the price of flowers had shot up. At the end we did a pookkalam awfully displaying our poverty.
I appointed myself as the photographer. I arrived at the gym early morning only to find preparations halfway begun. Some lovely kids had been called from an orphanage. They arrived dressed very neatly in their school uniforms. It was so serene to watch them looking around in bewilderment.
As usual some police bigwigs were the chief guests of the day along with two cine actors. The programme kick started with a few songs and dances from the fellow gym members. A gift kit was given to the little kids.
As I stood watching them a tide of emotions swept through. I wonder what they would be dreaming of. With no one to call their own, what their picture of tomorrow will be. I wanted to dive into their hearts and see for myself their fears and insecurities. But we take them as a show case material for our large heartedness.
I went home with what Madhupal said. ’Our Onam has become sweet memories for us. We dream of our childhood and villages- things that are not going to comeback.
Let’s try to create sweet Onams for our little ones to remember’
I have posted the pics too...
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
How fast the time flies by. In the blink of an eye the WC is over and a new season of league matches have arrived.
At the end of the last season, we expected to see a spending spree. But to everyone’s surprise there is no much of a movement till now. Even the big spenders like Real Madrid, Chelsea are lying low.
Mancini has more than fulfilled everyone’s prediction when he romped through the market laying hands on everything and anything he could lay hands on. By the end of this season Mancini will be elevated to the joker of the year.
Michael Owen’s only contribution to football was a goal against
I wonder how the poor Kops will react to their one-time-poster-boy’s reaction.
But Owen has conveniently forgotten their last season’s heroes- Howard Webb and host of other blundering referees (and also some small-fry managers who threw away the matches). I believe Owen was signed by Fergie to stay in the headlines of British newspapers. I find no use of him on the field.
Owen has also forgotten that Man Utd. was no where near to title and in the season before that it was the Kops who gave them a chase.
As for the good ol’ Arsenal things look shakier than the last season with no defenders and an ever erratic goalie.
I hope for the best.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I tapped the pen furiously on my forehead. I hated thinking hard. It makes my hair fall. Luckily I got into a place where I don’t have to do much thinking. Moreover I get a cool 5 figure salary at the end of every month (for lazing around).
I can’t wait to get to the month-end. It seems that my account will run dry even before the 20th mark. As usual I will have to run to Sruthi for financial assistance.
‘Sruthi’ was just a temporary arrangement when it all began a year ago. The expiry date of the ‘temporary’ affair is well past over and we are still sticking on to each other.
She has already started talking about ‘cementing’ things. Getting committed at this point of life doesn’t seem to be a great idea. But a break-up, if it happens now, is going to get real ugly.
And if the ‘temporary’ thing are ‘cemented’, I will have to start thinking about climbing those corporate ladder a bit fast. Well, you need a lot of capital to settle down, don’t we?
Ever since my childhood it was my dream to show him how a home is built. Now I am getting my chance. There is enough time for that. At the present I am concentrating on living the moment- work, parties, booze, restaurants. I try to ignore the void I am experiencing these days. Would I end up a failure like him?
I suddenly jump out of the reverie. The curvaceous lady is waiting for my answer sheet. These surveys sucks. But all the thinking has done some good. I got the answer
QUESTION: What do you value most in the world?
ANSWER: My wallet!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The fragile façade built around him by his PR team has started to crumble. The Indian public is seeing through the layers of whitewash. They see a confused guy unsure of where he stands.
None of us would have forgotten the fanfare when he made his grand entry. He heralded the era of a transition and became the self styled leader of a youth brigade. His white kurta, jogging shoes and dimpled smile became a trademark symbol of the Youth Congress.
He didn’t have any hesistancy in admitting that the Congress party has to undergo a radical change. He got down into working with the Youth Congress. Soon the YC became the hangout of the hip crowd, the place where enlightened youth dreamt of a change. RG became their brand icon and YC was marketed well. RG became the hottest, intellectual, eligible bachelor in town and girls swooned when he arrived at their campus.
RG pulled off carefully orchestrated stunts too. He jumped into a crowded suburban train, ate with dalit family, came up with some controversial statements that had everything but sense. No one would have forgotten the picture of RG carrying loads as a head load worker.
The crown of his achievements was going to ne the YC election in our states. Kerala had no YC as such, but a bunch of jobless young ones who doubled as goons of the mighty Congress leaders. RG single handedly dismissed the president and invited resumes for leaders. Everyone was stunned. The Congress bigwigs were pissed off badly. Leaders being interviewed; soon we our party structure is going to function with the smoothness of a corporate company. Then elections were announced for the YC.
That is the last we heard of him. The elections haven’t taken place. The excuse being the Data entry company in Chennai hasn’t finished entering the names of YC members.
Even to this day RG smiles at us from posters cajoling us to join the Youth Congress.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The rhythmic rocking of bullock cart lulled her to a tired sleep. She had been crying since the wedding. Govind could not guess a reason. He felt embarrassed about himself on his little knowledge on the matters of female kingdom.
Even he couldn’t believe that his life took a sudden turn. A few days ago his sole aim in life seemed to be getting a full meal every day. The abject poverty and hopelessness had frustrated him.
His bedridden mother had the vanity of wealth and social status. He couldn’t marry away his youngest sister. The produce of their land could never sustain the family of three. Even the basic necessities of life were rare to come by.
Still in the midst of the happiness, his mind was uneasy. He never considered his brother-in-law as an angel.
In the better times, his father had married of his eldest sister to Shekharan. Shekharan went away to
Govind did not get much help from this Shekharan even during times of starvation. Then why was this sudden incarnation as fairy godmother? Life is quite strange and men stranger.
The best explanation could be he wanted to see Govind married and settled before he could proceed with his son’s marriage. Or else an ‘uncle staying unmarried’ could be a disadvantage to get Krishnan good proposals. As a zamindar, that could be a blotch. After all Shekharan’s main aim in life was to preserve his social status!
It was Shekharan himself who found a girl for Govindan. Saritha worked as a servant to the household. Govindan was happy with the choice. Saritha hailed from a good caste and experienced at housekeeping.
The cart was moving at a steady speed. They would reach the farm house by early morning. Shekharan had put Govindan in charge of his distant farmhouse. At first glance this would look like another benefit from the brother in law. Govindan very well knew Shekharan was too crooked to be too kind. Govindan was not too dumb to deduce that Shekharan would be getting an unpaid supervisor. In return he would be getting food to sustain himself. So two days after the marriage Govindan had set out to his new workplace with his newly acquired wife.
Govindan started planning about his future. He never did so till today. He never had the courage to do so. He felt the dreams budding in him.
He unloaded the trunks from the cart. A helper appeared out of nowhere. By the time he came back after a wash, Saritha had started arranging the kitchen utensils. He felt so happy for himself. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her. She had been continuously crying. Tonight he must utilize the chance to know her better.
His job at the farm was never going to be easy. The harvest season was at hand. He had to fine the right number of labourers. All things have to be done at the right time. He would be busy all day.
He went out to the fields. The helper assured him all things would be taken care of. He felt relieved. He would not have to spend much time away from her.
He returned to his new shack. it was a palace compared to his earlier existence, even if he couldn’t call it his own.
He discreetly moved to the backyard when he saw Saritha bend over and retching. He grew alarmed. She was sobbing helplessly when he went to help her. He called over his servant and arranged for a doctor.
The doctor arrived, checked her and gave the glad tidings.
He is going to be a father in another six months.
This is work has been poorly based on a great work. I translated and tweaked with no copy rights