A Wavering Mind

Being the Best...

2007-11-11T04:51:00.001-08:00

Just had a thought over a fag and felt should pen it down. Its about being the best.

Everyone wants to be better than the best- the ultimate best in this fast changing competitive worlds- be it professional or personal.

"I want to top the boards, want to enter the best institute, get the best professional stream, get the best salary in the industry and off course get the best babe around. For that I am ready to slog my butts off and do the nonsense"est" nuisances possible. But I want the best for me and be the best around.", could be those important thoughts when young.

"I want to be surrounded by people all the time. I want my collegues and my boss (the best thing to happen) to keep seeking my help in whatever forms. I want the most trivial opportunities to keep showing myself as the best so that they keep coming back to me. Be it be real or perceptual who cares, but I should look the best.", could be thoughts we start working.

What does one really mean by being the best?? (Poor jokers ward off, offcourse not the mumbai bus. This one is lil serious). What is it that you would compare yourself against, to judge yourself the best? Take some time before you respond in the most gyani manner. Because, I took some time off to ask the same question to people around me.

Lets accept it in the fullest humility that we almost always define being the best against the people around us-our colleagues. Top 1 percentile in the JEEs or CATs make me the best. The cream of nation, the chosen one. Ghanta chosen one, the world around you would make you a choosen one in no time. Thats where comes in the importance of understanding the responsibility of being the best. Its not a target in long term (could be in short term though). Its keeping pace with time and surroundings and being better than what was your best yesterday.

Being the best is not your self image in others eyes but your self image in your own eyes. Its an internal satisfaction of having grown personally.

For a change think it my way, you will be happy having bettered yourself. Its better than getting bothered of being still away from someone better than you. There off course would be someone better than you.

Drift- Inevitable!

2007-08-26T01:15:00.000-07:00

Me back!!!

No blogging the whole of the last month. July goes off empty so does August. Honestly, there hadn’t been anything great to write. Not that I write only great things.

Otherwise too, life's been pretty busy. Tiring six days a week topped with a lazy Sunday, and the week is off with a desperate but a hopeful chase towards the next lazy one.

Life’s become nothing but chasing Sundays. There is one thing that I wouldn’t like to miss, and that is reading.

I’ve been searching this book called English August for quite some time after a constant coaxing by one of my friends when he came to know I like Indian writings. Authored by Upamanyu Chatterjee, the novel’s also been scripted into a movie with Rahul Bose in the lead role of Agastya Sen, an IAS posted in a small town called Madna (I still have to figure out where that town is). It’s not a novel backed by a conventional story. It’s just the central character’s experiences, thoughts and mind penned down with an exceptional excellence. Quite different book from the lot that I’ve read is all that I would say. Now, that I’ve read it I’m on a prowl for the DVD to figure out how well Bose’s been able to give life to Sen on screen.

Meanwhile, I reproduce an excerpt from the book which depicts the clueless Agastya’s state of mind and thoughts. “Hazaar fucked” is how he describes his life when first comes to the town.

Movement without purpose, an endless ebb and flow, from one world to another, journeys and passages, undertaken by cocoons not for rest or solace, but for ephemerals. The flux of the sea now seemed the only pattern, within and beyond the mind – mirrored even in his encounters with the myriad faces, on some of which he had tried to impose an order by seeing them as mirror images, facets of his own self, but now that longing, for repose through the mastering of chaos, itself seemed vain. Perhaps it was true that he had first to banish all yearning, and learn to accept the drift, perhaps it was true that all was clouded by desire, as fire by smoke, as a mirror by dust, as an unborn babe by its covering.

So close to me this excerpt is.

A Wavering Mind

2007-06-25T11:35:00.000-07:00

A lot of people commented on the title of this blog “A Wavering Mind”, as being a little too pessimistic. People jump to their set of conclusions pretty hastily, I must say.

It does not define me in particular. It defines human nature. It defines each one of our minds. Each one of us has two different states of mind- a wavering mind and a focused mind. The state of mind is situation dependent and is created due to external stimuli and internal control of mind.

The first one is too imaginative and tends to create things that never existed. The imaginative world created then leads to newer thoughts and a new set of imaginations which sets the process on.

In spite of being too rigid and focused in your thought process you get deterred by very trivial things. That is what a wavering mind is. Rigid, yet very flexible. Rigidly flexible!

Knowledge Vs Wisdom

2007-06-03T00:11:00.000-07:00

“Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.

In every truth the opposite is equally true. A truth can only be expressed and enveloped in words if it is one-sided. Everything that is thought and expressed is one-sided, only half the truth; it all lacks totality, completeness, unity. When the Illustrious Buddha taught about the world, he had to divide it into Samsara and Nirvana, into illusion and truth, into suffering and salvation. One cannot do it otherwise; there is no other method for those who teach. But the world itself, being in and around us, is never one-sided. Never is a man or a deed wholly Samsara or wholly Nirvana; never is a man wholly a saint or a sinner. This only seems so because we suffer the illusion that time is something real. Time is not real. And if time is not real, then the dividing line that seems to lie between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also illusion.

I am a sinner and you are a sinner, but someday the sinner will be Brahma again, will someday attain Nirvana, will someday become a Buddha. Now this ‘someday’ is illusion; it is only a comparison. The sinner is not on the way to a Buddha like state; he is not evolving, although our thinking cannot conceive things otherwise. No, the potential Buddha already exists in the sinner; his future is already there. The potential hidden Buddha must be recognized in him, in you, in everybody. The world is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment; every sin already carries grace within it, all small children are potential old men, all suckling have death within them, all dying people- eternal life. It is not possible for one person to see how far another is on the way; the Buddha exists in the Brahmin. During deep meditation it is possible to dispel time, and them everything is good, everything is perfect, everything is Brahmin. Therefore, it seems to me that sin as well as holiness, wisdom as well as folly. Everything is necessary, everything needs only my agreement, my assent, my loving understanding; then all is well with me and nothing can harm me. I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary for me to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it."

Siddhartha, Hermann Hesse

Reflection

2007-05-17T03:39:00.000-07:00

There are an umpteen number of times you would've felt after hearing a song that you are the one who's singing it. It would've occurred to you many a times after watching a movie that the story revolved around your own story. Or say, after reading a piece of literature you would've felt as if you were the one, who'd written it. And then arises, a deep rooted urge to know more about the writer who wrote the song, movie or the piece of literature in question.

One writes straight from his heart on what he experiences and observes. There is nothing like being completely fictiitous.

That's where you get convinced that there's a different story altogether in some different part of the world running parallel to yours. Things start getting intriguing and interesting. You feel like reading more to know about the writer. But, what if he deliberately chooses to obcure himself into anonymity. Enough to drive you crazy. Isn't it??

I've come across many such literary pieces but nothing comes as close as these ones.

english-august.blogspot.com written in anonymity.

Everything that he/her writes makes me feel as if he/she is spying me closely.

Whose thoughts are these? He/She could be anyone. Upamanya Chatterjee- the author of the book English August?? or Rahul Bose who played the lead role in the movie based on the book. Could be anyone? Thats not something that bothers me; or makes me happy either. What makes me curious is the thoughtprocess. Same thoughts, feelings, emotions, everything that could be understood from the words- everything same.

One of the many, that I liked is "Between"

Between

"There exists a place called 'between'.

'Between' is in the middle of here and there. It is also in the middle of this and that.

The first time I reached 'between', she hit me out of nowhere. I didn't know or plan to be in 'between', but somehow I just landed up there. It is strange, the places where life takes you. Sometimes expected, most of the time unexpected. And when the unexpected happens, the myth of 'between' becomes a reality. A reality that you may or may not want to face, but you have to. And so, 'between' begins to exist. And thus is born 'grey'.

'Grey' is 'between' black and white. It is also a place. It is a place in 'between'. It is the place you can see the most easily, and hence what you associate the most with 'between'.

But beware, what you see is not what you get. I can feel myself reaching another 'between' very soon. 'Between' is also a place where things change. That is why it is in the middle of here and there. It is also in the middle of this and that. And in the middle of 'between' everything is black and white. And that is the irony of being in 'between'. It gives you the perspective of being in the middle, and being able to see things clearly, while in obscurity.

They say obscurity gives rise to confusion, but from 'between', confusion could have never been clearer. And it is in this clarity, that one takes a decision. And that decision is what remains, even when you are not in 'between' anymore. When you take a side. When you move to one of the sides. To here or there. Or this or that.

Things change. But 'between' continues to exist. "

That's indeed my reflection.

As if it were the last day...

2007-05-16T02:25:00.000-07:00

“If I must be faithful to someone or something, then I have, first of all, to be faithful to myself. If I’m looking for true love, I first have to get the mediocre loves out of my system. The little experience of life I’ve had has taught me that no one owns anything that everything is an illusion- and that applies to material as well as spiritual things. Anyone who has lost something they thought was theirs forever (as happened often enough to me already) finally comes to realize that nothing really belongs to them.

And if nothing belongs to me, then there’s no point wasting my time looking after things that aren’t mine; it’s best to live as if today were the first (or last) day of my life.”

Above is an excerpt from Paulo Coelho’s (author of the international bestseller THE ALCHEMIST) Eleven Minutes. Not an outstanding storyline but just a good read.

Nevertheless, I found the above piece a little relevant so put in here. The thought might sound very generic and repetitive. Some might even think it to have a sharp pessimistic edge. But I like it. Life indeed gets spiced up if you were to think it’s gonna end soon. You’d feel like doing so many things, you always wanted to do for yourself and more importantly to others, lest your life ends abruptly and you go incomplete with a complete dissatisfaction.

You tend to run faster. That’s it.

"May be..."- Disappointment or Hope??

2007-05-05T03:03:00.000-07:00

Calvin: Hey Amy, your exuberance is attractive. Feel like talking to you. BUT... Do you mind coffee sometime??

Amy: Thats weird! Coffee?? Don like it! May be for somethin else may be...

Calvin: (thinking) Since when did complimenting a gal become weird?? I like that "may be" in the end. Didn't realise movie is a better option. MAY BE...

Amy: :) Smart

Calvin: (thinking) 'May be' is a politically correct and a sweeter way to say 'NO' . May be ... :)

Different Faces

2007-05-04T21:05:00.000-07:00

"कभी है इश्क का उजाला
कभी है मौत का अँधेरा
बताओ कौन भेस होगा
मैं जोगी बनू या लुटेरा
कई चहरे है इस दिल के
न जाने कौनसा मेरा "*

I wish I were the same to everyone। But I am not.

You define me. The world defines me. I am what you all make me. And so is everyone.

You define me externally. I am the same internally.

BEHAVIOURS VARY. NATURE STAYS ETERNAL.

*Song: Maine dil se kaha, Film: Rog (2004), Lyrics: Nilesh Mishra

Strange Path

2007-05-04T11:04:00.000-07:00

"हज़ारों ऐसे फासले थे
जो तय करने चले थे
राहे मगर चल पडी थी
और पीछे हम रह गए थे
कदम दो चार चल पाए
किये फेरे तेरे मन के"*

This path is extraordinarily strange. Journey is all the more amusing.

I move in one direction and the path moves in the other.

Destination is not known to me. All that I know is to keep walking.

I am the one to decide the destination so as to make the experience enriching. I do not know whether I am heading in the right direction as what I have is nothing but a confident assumption. I needn’t worry because I at least have the direction. Moreover, the journey has already been decided by my destiny.

I just need to keep matching my pace with that of the path. I sometimes like to halt and rest but I can’t, because I know neither can the path. The minute I stop I start sliding backwards.

That’s when I say, I couldn’t match up with the pace and fell back in time.

All that I need to do is run faster.

The path is LIFE.

* Song: Maine dil se kaha, Film: Rog (2004), Lyrics: Nilesh Mishra

Going Up!

2007-05-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

(Two young office boys wait for the elevator. Their articulation, behavior and accent imply their UP-Bihar origins. Have already waited more than enough for an elevator that has to go two stories both ways)

Youth 1: Dhur saala, itna der mein to hum paanch maala chad lete. (a little bit of annoyance cropping up on his face)

Youth 2: To kaahen nahi gaye. Doosre tak to jaana tha… Ha ha ha (a slow, intermittent laugh that fades away with every ‘ha’)

Youth 1: Aisa baat nahi hai be. Hum dekhe hai aisa lift jo lage hai ki chhat phor ke nikal jaayega. Aur yeh, lagta hai sabzi ka thela hai.

Youth 2: Haan be, paisa to happak ke kharch kiya hai office banane mein, lekin lift lagai hai ekdum lapadjhannu. Chal be aa gayi.

(Both of them bend, lift the carton they were carrying and enter the elevator. One of them presses the button for the second floor and the door closes. Once the lift motions up, a feminine voice very pleasingly declares in English “Going Up”, to which one them blurts out satirically.)

Youth 1: Leov, kar lo baat. Humai dabaye, aur hamai ko batai… Going Up!

Ha..... ha...... ha..... ha ….

(And both of them burst out together in sync with the same loud, slow and intermittent laugh that fades away with every ‘ha’.)

Abhi-Ash ki Shaadi- देश कि सबसे बड़ी शादी

2007-04-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

If you’ve just picked up your TV remote and are about to switch on your television, think over twice before you do so, as the only thing being flashed across all the channels these days is the much gossiped Abhi-Ash marriage. That’s how the media has baptized it. Some channels, just to stand out in the delirious competition, are even calling it Abhi-varya marriage. If you are one of those die hard fans and are more excited than you were or could be for your own marriage or if you are sitting annoyingly idle with nothing to do than surf through the channels, you can work out the rest of the permutations and combinations. I can help you with that- probably Shek-Assh or Shek-varya or can cut it down even smaller to Ab-ash. Yeah, you guessed it right, that’s what our responsible media is making the whole nation feel-‘abashed’.

Well, the idea here is not to make things intense but to take a quick light hearted laugh at how one of the most powerful institutions of any country can stoop to such a miserable state of affairs. Sit back and enjoy.

There is this hindi news channel (can’t risk naming them as traffic to my blog is already on a rise) that claims to be the Sabse Tej channel and never forgets to self glorify and declare themselves the Schumachers and Barichellos of their trade- sabse pehle aur sabse tej, every time a story is telecasted. Moreover, they also have different channels running at different speeds for different viewers. Bang on STP! What say?? Anyways, I hope I needn’t spend more time on this introductory paragraph. You’ve got the hang.

Dha dha dha dha dha dha dha dha ……. (for those who didn’t get it right, it’s the introductory jingle music…hey hold on here comes the flying text in a colourful attractive font that says Abhi-Ash Marriage- Desh ki sabse badi shaadi (the same way as Hindi movies are titled like Daag-The Fire….. we somehow find this format too dear to do away. Don’t we??).

And here comes the “ok-ok behenji types” lady who is the host, (I wish it was AndyTV- prettier babes) shouting at the top of her voice “Aapka swagat hai desh ki sabse badi shaadi par- aap dekh rahe hai hamara vishesh karyakram- Abhi-Ash ki shaadi.” This loud invitation would actually force you to think, “Sahi hai bhai, a good alternative to invite people who were cornered from the show- like the Khans, 10 Janpath blah blah…. Asal nahi to yahi sahi.”

“To aayiye hum le chalte hai aapko Prateeksha”. Prateeksha is the name of Bachchan residence #1. By now, viewers already know what Prateeksha is, so the need for extra words is no more felt by the channel. After all they have to be faster than everyone. So let me also call it Prateeksha.

‘To aayiye hum le chalte hai aapko Prateeksha, jahan par nazar banaye rakhe hai hamare senior sanvadaata Salman Jaan.”. The name, I thought was intentional but there could have also been a bleak possibility of coincidence. The screen cuts into two so as to make some space for the reporter. The camera soon zooms in and focuses our jeans clad, heat tanned Salman jaan.

Spiky hair all ruffled, eyes deep sunk into the sockets, brows tweaked with exhaustion and stress, Salman jaan looks damn pale and tired. He’s been standing there since seven in the morning to get a glimpse of either the Bachchans or Rais and let the nation also get it at his behest. He was trying his best to disguise his true expressions and feelings through a strange wide mouthed manipulative smile. It failed to decorate his face though. It clearly said, “saale khud to AC mein baithe chaba rahe hai, mujhe khada kar diya hai bhookhe pet dhoop mein.”

“Salman, aye Salman”, says the host and Salman continues to be in the same posture with ear phones plugged into his right ear and a long baseball bat microphone in his hands. He knows something is expected from the studio and tries to position the ear plug correctly when all of a sudden he shouts, “Haan, haan Mandira, mandira main abhi Prateeksha ke bahar khada hoon. Aap apne TV screen par dekh sakte hai najara prateeksha ka”, and the cameraman standing somewhere under the shelter of trees immediately zooms onto the building to capture whatever is said by the reporter.

“Dekhiye kis tarah se saji hui hai Prateeksha. Subah se rishtedaaro aur karibi mitron ka aavagaman jaari hai. Ab tak humne, Amar Singh, Amitabh ke chote bhai Ajitabh aur unka parivar, blah blah blah ….ko andar jaate hue dekha hai, par abhi tak unme se koi bhi bahar nahi aaya hai”, continues the reporter. I just wondered, “yeh report de raha hai ki suspense kahani suna raha hai”.

“Chaliye, karib jaakar dekhte hai, kya kya tayyariyan ho chuki hai. Yeh dekhiye yeh phool mangaye gaye hai khas kerala se. Yeh aishwarya ke pasandida phool hai jinko managaya hai unki hone wali saas Jayaji ne. Phool ke saath kaante bhi hai. Oouch”, he continues breathlessly.

Mandira tries interjecting his informative blabbering but he seems unstoppable. She wants a commercial break and he is completely in a haste to puke out as much as possible. At least he could go for his lunch peacefully. The lady somehow manages to take control of the situation and hastily pushes the programme into a break after showing a series of visuals of the movies that the couple had done together.

So people out there, stay connected and I will be back soon after the break. Don’t go away!

hindi swagatam !

2007-04-11T06:27:00.000-07:00

लखनऊ के वो बारह साल भूल जाऊं में कैसे?

प्रातः काल के वो नमस्ते नमस्कारो की बौछार, वो दोस्त-यार चार, भूल जाऊं मैं कैसे?
हजरत गंज की वो जवान टोलियों कि चहल पहल, इमामबादे और भूल भूलईया का वो महल, भूल जाऊं मैं कैसे?
बात करने का वो लखनवी स्टाइल, पडोसी की लडकी की वो मीठी स्माइल, भूल जाऊं मैं कैसे?
सात महिने के गर्भ पेट वाले वो ठुल्ले, चौक में लजीज कबाब बनाते हुए वो मुल्ले, भूल जाऊं मैं कैसे?

मेरे यार, लखनऊ के वो बारह साल भूल जाऊं में कैसे?

बैंजो, भूलने को कौन कहता है? याद रख न!!

बहरहाल, मैं तहे दिल से आभारी हूँ इस शहर का जिसने मुझे दी हैं हिंदी! ऐसी हिंदी जो नही है "जास्ती, आयिंगा, जाईन्गा ..." जैसी!

लिखने बैठूं तो शायद कुछ अच्छा लिख दूं! कई अनुभव ऐसे है जिनको हिंदी में न लिखकर यदी अंग्रेजी में लिखूं तो मेरे ख़याल से वे नीरस लगेंगे। तो "यो मैंन" और पश्चिमी सभ्यता के व्यक्तित्व वाले लोगों से निवेदन है कि पढ़ते वक़्त सहनशीलता बरते और अंत में अपनी विशेष टिपण्णी बताये जगह पर छोड दे। समय मिलते ही गौर फ़रमाया दिया जाएगा!

Mala Don Chapatya Dya

2007-03-25T10:16:00.001-07:00

“I didn’t even know what that presentation looked like, and she expected me to search it and transfer it to her laptop”, I said in a morose tone. It’d been a bad morning for me. I’d spent almost two hours going through some innumerable folders and subfolders of files and mails to find out that presentation. Finally I gave up, went up to my boss to tell her that I wasn’t lucky enough to trace that file.

“Manmeet, you know what she said, ‘I am sorry. It was there on my desktop. Thank you for your help. Can you do me one last favour- can you just get me a printout of that Chennai docket??’ I mimicked her and laughed out loudly and so did Manmeet as he knew that was exactly the same way she spoke. I could mimic any one. I have always enjoyed observing people and their behaviour as there is a lot of humor stored in there. It had never been an attempt to disgrace people with humour. My colleagues have always enjoyed and complimented me for it. The intention has always been to laugh at the situation and the strange behaviour one displays at that time rather than laugh at the person himself. This really made some very tense moments lighter.

“‘One last favour’ aisa lagta hai jaise dono mein se kisi ek ki…..I have started feeling a wave of chilly wind going down my spine at any of her search requests. I feel like being one of those search engines on the net. Kisi ne sach hi kaha tha ‘MBA is all about challenges’. It is as good as a treasure hunt”, I continued sarcastically.

“Chal yaar Raghu, chill maar aur khana kha”, said Manmeet as he continued to concentrate on his food.

Manmeet, nine years older to me, is a Sardar. I have had a lot of Surd friends during my Delhi days. With due respects to all Surds and Sikhs, I wouldn’t be joking or jesting either, if I say all Sardars to me looked one and the same. But this one was completely different. He was a simple chap with a very calm and composed exterior. Extremely knowledgeable, from mutual funds to real estate, from love marriages to arranged marriages, he knew all. From whatever discussions about life we had indulged in over a mug of beer some time back, I realized he is one of the very pragmatic personalities I have met in the recent days. He had joined in as the Brand Manager. Was more like a friend than a boss.

Manmeet and me had joined the organization the same day. Both of us got acquainted during an induction programme, an inevitable four day time pass activity conducted by the HR, to make their joinees familiar with the organization, their background, their culture and what not. (My apologies to any of the readers who happen to belong to the first family called HR, for referring the programme as a ‘time pass’ because I believe there would be one from the same family whose heart I would not like to break). I think I am digressing too often.

We hadn’t talked to each other much that time. It was only when we actually joined into our roles and figured out that ours was the same department that we started knowing each other better.

I slithered back into my thoughts and wondered if I could really make something out of the profile that was given to me. I think I should admit it wasn’t given to me, I had accepted it. I wasn’t sure if the profile would be intellectually stimulating enough to do justice to my capabilities. ‘Capabilities’- there could be no other word as misleading as this one. You actually can’t define this word because you yourself would never know what you would or could end up doing. Searching for files, making changes to presentations, taking printouts- was that all in store for an IIT-IIM grad. Things were in disarray and I feared if making a mark was difficult. I smiled to myself much to Manmeet’s curiosity.

“Kya hua has kyon raha hai?” said Manmeet.

“Kuch nahi”, I said.

Herd of people had started cramming the little cafeteria in groups. One could see around all enthusiastic souls discussing and laughing out their first half of the day with each other. If I were to explain in a typical retail lingo, this cafeteria was a small little 300 sq ft space, naturally lit, adorned with friendly ambience and had huge footfalls during peak hours. It had some six to seven tables that could accommodate at most forty people out of a staff strength of hundred. Some preferred food standing as they didn’t have patience and time to wait for a table to get empty. Most of these looked highly preoccupied with the work that had to be abandoned for some thing as stupid as having lunch. These ‘people’ usually preferred to have sandwiches and soups as that could be stuffed in quickly and thus a huge amount of time could be saved. The most miser ones, ordered the same stuff in their cabins at odd times to save an additional couple of minutes.

We were sitting by the corner table with our backs to a white board that had the day’s thali menu written on it. I remember my first day when I’d had my lunch sitting there just in front of the board. People had started lumbering into the cafeteria as usual. Every time someone entered, he came up to me, stared and went off. Everyone did that- big stern bosses, blabbering beautiful girls. That was something very surprising and embarassing too. It was getting mysterious. I wouldn’t be more embarrassed to say that I actually thought they were curious to know who I wassssssss since I had joined in lately.

By then, Rashmi and Subbu had entered the place and moved towards the food line. Everyone had to line up in that very ‘little’ space to wait for their opportunity to ask for food. But believe me no one really had any qualms about the place at least not me. Sooner or later we were supposed to shift to our all new office that was worth thousand crores rupees. I heard someone mention that.

Food was decent. Any comment on food would start a new thread of arguments so better stay away. I have always noticed and truly felt that we have got this habit of always criticizing the present and praising the past. It’s very true for food if not anything else. I have heard a lot of this sort like, “Yaar udhar ka khana accha tha yeh kya hai ???” or “Hum khana to color dekh kar pehchante hai.”. Believe me the same present food would become delicacy to us when we move on to somewhere else.

Subbu and Rashmi joined us with their food plates.

“Aur ho gaya aapka kaam, Child SKU and Mother SKU. Are all promotions well and running fine??” I said and everyone burst into laughter. Both these people worked in the same team as we and looked after In Store Promotions.

Before we could figure out who else was missing except Rahul and Shweta both of whom were out for a meeting, in scurried Sheela and in her typical feminine child like manner said, “Eh… tum mere ko bula nahi sakte the kya?” She had a soup bowl with two ‘kachories’ in her hands. For a minute I thought she was on dieting but as soon as the minute ticked its last second she had got the whole main course thali.

As everyone settled down to eat, I repeated the whole story that I told Manmeet few minutes back. They found it interesting. People by then had realized I had a lot more stories to tell whether it be my local train experiences, my Bihar sales stunts during my short stint, my current fire fighting and many more. They were always in an anticipation to know how my day went with a hope that I would have something funny to narrate.

Everyone was laughing when all of sudden a sharp, heavy, young, feminine voice shot from a table straight in front of ours, “Mala don chapatya dya..”. It was Marathi. It meant “Give me two rotis.” Being a Marathi myself it caught my immediate attention. The voice was very different. To make your understanding simpler, it was something very similar to Rani Mukerjee’s voice. So it was Rani’s voice. It had a distinctive command and exuberance that could make an impact even in that noisy crowd.

There was group of five young girls who sat around the table in front of ours. Whose was it? Before I could figure out where that voice emanated from, I remembered I had to provide printouts of the Chennai Docket to my boss. I scampered out after dumping my plate in the dish landing crate.

to be continued....