Dear Bhagwanji,
I am a 24 year old human who hasn’t achieved anything in life. I haven’t hurt many in my short life span till now (Gosh!! slaughtered the bug barking in my ear last night!) and don’t plan to do so in near future as well. I have been told by my peers that if I’ll do no evil, I’ll get a seat at paradise.
Sir, as you must be aware how difficult it is to lead an ascetic life on earth. With so many vices enticing me, I have still kept myself at a distance from all the sinful activities (although not by choice, but by compulsion). I have spent my last 24 years living as in a hell and want to change my fortunes now.
With all for my self control and conservative nature, it is getting difficult for me to not fall into dungeon of temptations. I would be thankful to you if you could give me a PPT on facilities available in Paradise which would motivate me to walk down the path of austerity. I have some fancies of paradise (based on Hindu mythological serials) which I’m listing underneath; I hope I would get much more than them (with no hidden costs).
Regards
Paras
Human No.: 4.69 billion (+- 100 million)
Expectations:
1. Apsara: I have extreme respect and liking for Urvashis, Manekas residing in Paradise. I have been told that most of them are siphoned off by Lord Indra, but I do hope that I’ll get my share.
2. Madira: I have a fondness for Beer, Vodka and Scotch. I sincerely hope the Madira served would be at par. As propagated by mythological serials and movies, I am expecting juicy grapes presented by ballerinas with madira paan going in tandem with dance shows. (I do hope none from saffron brigade would come and stop the party).
3. Food: Although I’m not much of a foodie, but I’m bit skeptical about the food quality and variety served. Since, food must be prepared at a huge scale for every inhabitant; I wish some hygiene standards would be maintained. As confirmed by every Hindu feast offering free food, hygiene and cleanliness are of least importance. Also, some decorum is expected, found missing down here.
4. Ego satisfaction: This indisputably is the most important feature. As I have already briefed you of my ascetic life, I want to payback to all the scoundrels who have bullied me, made me feel jealous and were everything that I wanted to be, but could never become. Trusting your wisdom my lord, I’m sure all of them must have already been given a reservation in Hell (reservation reminds of one more thing, does thugs, thieves and criminals but SCs/STs or OBCs, have a reservation in Paradise?). Now I want to give them everything back with interest. I want to tease them, laugh at their despair and mock them.
5. Diversity: Since Muslims have their own Jannat, Christians have a booking at Heaven and we Hindus have a Swarg. Sir, does that mean there would only be Hindu beauties up there or do we have an arrangement of communal exchanges with other paradises as well. Please Sir, if we don’t have such an arrangement, then please send your external affairs minister to enable human (or souls) travel across different paradises (for beauties, we could have a Miss Paradise competition there!!).
6. Communication: A secure, free and fast mode of communication is anticipated. Since, most of my friends would be in hell (bad company!); I need to communicate with them at regular intervals. I would need a fast mode of transport (I hope you people must have done away with chariots by now!), a mobile connection (with no connection hassles and unlimited talk time) and broadband connection (with no quota time, download limit, access to all sort of sites including explicit one.).
7. Television: A big LCD with a BOSE (Hindu owner) home theatre system would do for me. It should have access to all the channels (I hope there would be no Information and Broadcasting Department there, who themselves see all the naughty stuff, but don’t allow us to see any) except for news channels (only thing I’ll probably miss is news on Amitabh’s latest blog, Aamir’s dog baptism and Mr Talwar’s family drama.).
8. In addition to this I expect some routinely stuff (How easily I have said routinely, we haven’t been able to fulfill this routinely stuff even after 60 years of Independence.) like 24 hours water (clean would be preferred) and electricity supply, smooth and wide roads, health and medical facilities (I doubt whether souls get sick, but still anyway why take chances!) etc.
Sir, these are the only expectations of your humble servant and I know I won’t be disappointed, unlike company’s CTC which promises a lot and delivers nothing.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Lost World!
As Russia takes on Spain in all important semis of Euro,’08, I somehow can’t help myself supporting Russia over European giants (although a fan of Real Madrid). It is not as I have a special affinity towards the Russian or some hatred towards Spain, but I still can’t figure out the reason behind Russian penchant. To add on to the confusion I was supporting Spain against Italy just a couple of days ago and now with all pretense of supporting Spain I just can’t.
In retrospect, with few exceptions (when India is playing) I have always supported minnows(though India itself is a minnow in most of the cases). I have always cheered for David over Goliath, no matter whatever the odds were. Looking back and searching for reasons behind this empathy of mine towards underdogs I could come up with only one explanation that I myself am an underdog or an underachiever. I was always one who promised more but never delivered. The one with report card carrying taglines ‘Has potential, needs improvement’, but never with brilliant or outstanding remarks.
I can confidently (without any shame) say that I have never topped in my life. Never ever! Not even in any class test or in an individual subject. I have never received distinction of reserving a seat in the bottom half of class as well. I have always remain somewhere in the middle carrying a tag of above average student. A student who is neither liked nor loathed by teachers. A student who is very quickly forgotten and does no exceptional thing (not even something antisocial) to leave an impression behind.
I’m not saying this for gathering any sympathy, but somehow I realize history has been very unfair to average. One does find mention of extraordinarily bright and dull, Mahatama’s and thugs even for that matter marauders, rapists and murderers but never of a serene ordinary man. A man lost in his own world, which may not to be of any good to anyone but would not cause any harm to anyone as well.
Every pre placement talk I attended I was lectured upon the remarkable abilities of recruiters making it different from the rest. Although I could hardly see the difference of other than presuming innovative, often meaningless company name. Interviews followed Ppt’s which were even more hallucinating. The very first question: ’Tell me about yourself’ needed a reply which demonstrated me as a child with unique abilities. Ironically the only reply which came to my mind was that I am a normal homosapien with 206 bones (almost) with no special abilities and would not add anything special to your company. I had to weave (memorize) 3-4 lines hailing me as Albert Einstein, knowing that the person sitting across the desk is no Einstein himself and knows I’m faking. I had to convince him of my great elocution skills, my leadership qualities, my sporting talent and academic excellence. Although the job required none and nor did I possessed any, still I rated my leadership qualities second to none. Though it still baffles me that if every one would be leader then who would be lead.
Although it is the mediocre’s against whom toppers and nadirs are benchmarked, but still it is the common that gets lost in wilderness. Rubbing salt on wounds even girls also don’t opt for mediocre. Notorious ones would be seen roaming around with the beauties with average disillusioned and biting his nails.
In retrospect, with few exceptions (when India is playing) I have always supported minnows(though India itself is a minnow in most of the cases). I have always cheered for David over Goliath, no matter whatever the odds were. Looking back and searching for reasons behind this empathy of mine towards underdogs I could come up with only one explanation that I myself am an underdog or an underachiever. I was always one who promised more but never delivered. The one with report card carrying taglines ‘Has potential, needs improvement’, but never with brilliant or outstanding remarks.
I can confidently (without any shame) say that I have never topped in my life. Never ever! Not even in any class test or in an individual subject. I have never received distinction of reserving a seat in the bottom half of class as well. I have always remain somewhere in the middle carrying a tag of above average student. A student who is neither liked nor loathed by teachers. A student who is very quickly forgotten and does no exceptional thing (not even something antisocial) to leave an impression behind.
I’m not saying this for gathering any sympathy, but somehow I realize history has been very unfair to average. One does find mention of extraordinarily bright and dull, Mahatama’s and thugs even for that matter marauders, rapists and murderers but never of a serene ordinary man. A man lost in his own world, which may not to be of any good to anyone but would not cause any harm to anyone as well.
Every pre placement talk I attended I was lectured upon the remarkable abilities of recruiters making it different from the rest. Although I could hardly see the difference of other than presuming innovative, often meaningless company name. Interviews followed Ppt’s which were even more hallucinating. The very first question: ’Tell me about yourself’ needed a reply which demonstrated me as a child with unique abilities. Ironically the only reply which came to my mind was that I am a normal homosapien with 206 bones (almost) with no special abilities and would not add anything special to your company. I had to weave (memorize) 3-4 lines hailing me as Albert Einstein, knowing that the person sitting across the desk is no Einstein himself and knows I’m faking. I had to convince him of my great elocution skills, my leadership qualities, my sporting talent and academic excellence. Although the job required none and nor did I possessed any, still I rated my leadership qualities second to none. Though it still baffles me that if every one would be leader then who would be lead.
Although it is the mediocre’s against whom toppers and nadirs are benchmarked, but still it is the common that gets lost in wilderness. Rubbing salt on wounds even girls also don’t opt for mediocre. Notorious ones would be seen roaming around with the beauties with average disillusioned and biting his nails.
As I long for recognition I am reminded of lyrics of Unforgiven by Metallica:
Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub thee UNFORGIVEN
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
India sleeps!!
Sipping coffee on a nippy Delhi evening is one of the most amazing things, one can do in month of February. February brings a warm respite from 2 chilly months of winter. Sipping coffee in plush CP could be an altogether different experience in itself, but on that day it was something special. Smartly dressed young men and stunning maidens were wandering hand in hand along the boulevard. We as usual a group of four boys were sipping our hot brew outside Nirula’s (couldn’t afford it ), enjoying the Glen Medeiros’s ‘Nothing gonna change my love for you’ played for nth time (with n tending to infinity, couldn’t resist myself from using this limit). The couples were looking so dashing, lost in their own world caring about none. It would be a lie not to admit that I was not getting jealous of the Romeos and Juliets relishing Valentine’s. As usual we were watching the lovers and were webbing dreams of an angel, who would come and change our dull lives.
Alas, as always there is always someone to spoil the rosy pictures. Our engaging fantasies were broken with a hysteric cry from inside the café. A sudden mayhem could be seen with saffron clad Amrish Puris breaking table crockery, thrashing anyone coming in their way. Another fleet of motorcyclists bringing Prans, Prem Chopras and company yelling some indistinguishable slogans arrived to add on to the hysteria. Young couples lost somewhere in their utopian world were suddenly brought to harsh realities of secular and democratic India. A cavalcade of reporters was following the procession of saviors of Indian Culture. As a ray of hope in darkness police jeeps reached the studios (it really seemed like a studio with so many cameras around, only without a Hero), but it all turn out to be a mirage. Police rather than stopping the destruction were at best acting as a spectator. In fact they seem to enjoy the shooting with some of them even volunteering to enhance the existing villainous army. As I watch bemused at the whole spectacle, the plush Nirulas was looted and brought down to pieces with media covering the issue and police assisting the actors. They really were acting, all wearing Palika bazaar shades and instructing cameraman to focus on them before carrying the act of cowardice. Such was the harshness that they spared none from waiters to sweet fragile beauties. The Shloks mouthed by them would have certainly made Tulsidas and Kalidas proud. A whole bunch of esteemed audience (including me) watched the whole spectacle with diligence and sincerity. Marauders flew from scene leaving behind a shattered and plundered restaurant restoring Indian values moving towards another destination (probably Archie’s Gallery).
Indian growth story has impressed one and all, with young resurgent India taking world head on. Indian elephant is marching ahead at the pace of a tiger conquering unimaginable feats every day. As they say 1 Billion unstoppable people are marching with dreams in their heart and strength of achieving them in mind. But somehow, very strangely intolerant, narrow minded fanatics are breeding in every nook and corner of India. Over the last few years FREEDOM OF SPEECH has somehow got lost in this emerging India. An actor commenting a dam could have his movie (which involves livelihood of several others as well) banned, an actress commenting on pre marital sex could have an arrest warrant issue against her, a professor can be thrashed in front of his students in the name of immoral paintings by illiterates (who even don’t know difference between morality and immorality) and many others,. The point is not whether the commentators are right or wrong, but whether they have the right to express themselves in this democratic nation. I am not against the protests as well, but it’s the way of protesting which frightens. Protests are not against statements but against very existence of the dare (it shouldn’t have been dare in first place itself). India has always been argumentative in nature. Arguments are fundamental pillars of a democracy. An argumentative diverse population is a paramount requirement of strong nation. Threshold of tolerance have become abysmally low, with most futile remarks bringing whole nation down.
Extremism in forms of religion, region, race and castes has strangled us with no one working towards releasing us from its clutches. We have become a nation of cowards with no one paying heed to state of national affairs. From the eventful day of valentine’s till now I have never seen any strong reaction against the mobsters. Biggest disappointment has been us (as Pepsi puts it Youngistan). We may be achieving unconquered milestones every day, but we have forgotten way of living, of unrestrained thinking where every one is free to express himself, to do what he wants, of flying across the sky without any fear of hunted down! I wish we could be somewhere near to this utopian world. As Bob Marley beautifully says:
Get up Stand up
Stand for your rights
Get up Stand up
Don’t give up the fight
One more time!
Alas, as always there is always someone to spoil the rosy pictures. Our engaging fantasies were broken with a hysteric cry from inside the café. A sudden mayhem could be seen with saffron clad Amrish Puris breaking table crockery, thrashing anyone coming in their way. Another fleet of motorcyclists bringing Prans, Prem Chopras and company yelling some indistinguishable slogans arrived to add on to the hysteria. Young couples lost somewhere in their utopian world were suddenly brought to harsh realities of secular and democratic India. A cavalcade of reporters was following the procession of saviors of Indian Culture. As a ray of hope in darkness police jeeps reached the studios (it really seemed like a studio with so many cameras around, only without a Hero), but it all turn out to be a mirage. Police rather than stopping the destruction were at best acting as a spectator. In fact they seem to enjoy the shooting with some of them even volunteering to enhance the existing villainous army. As I watch bemused at the whole spectacle, the plush Nirulas was looted and brought down to pieces with media covering the issue and police assisting the actors. They really were acting, all wearing Palika bazaar shades and instructing cameraman to focus on them before carrying the act of cowardice. Such was the harshness that they spared none from waiters to sweet fragile beauties. The Shloks mouthed by them would have certainly made Tulsidas and Kalidas proud. A whole bunch of esteemed audience (including me) watched the whole spectacle with diligence and sincerity. Marauders flew from scene leaving behind a shattered and plundered restaurant restoring Indian values moving towards another destination (probably Archie’s Gallery).
Indian growth story has impressed one and all, with young resurgent India taking world head on. Indian elephant is marching ahead at the pace of a tiger conquering unimaginable feats every day. As they say 1 Billion unstoppable people are marching with dreams in their heart and strength of achieving them in mind. But somehow, very strangely intolerant, narrow minded fanatics are breeding in every nook and corner of India. Over the last few years FREEDOM OF SPEECH has somehow got lost in this emerging India. An actor commenting a dam could have his movie (which involves livelihood of several others as well) banned, an actress commenting on pre marital sex could have an arrest warrant issue against her, a professor can be thrashed in front of his students in the name of immoral paintings by illiterates (who even don’t know difference between morality and immorality) and many others,. The point is not whether the commentators are right or wrong, but whether they have the right to express themselves in this democratic nation. I am not against the protests as well, but it’s the way of protesting which frightens. Protests are not against statements but against very existence of the dare (it shouldn’t have been dare in first place itself). India has always been argumentative in nature. Arguments are fundamental pillars of a democracy. An argumentative diverse population is a paramount requirement of strong nation. Threshold of tolerance have become abysmally low, with most futile remarks bringing whole nation down.
Extremism in forms of religion, region, race and castes has strangled us with no one working towards releasing us from its clutches. We have become a nation of cowards with no one paying heed to state of national affairs. From the eventful day of valentine’s till now I have never seen any strong reaction against the mobsters. Biggest disappointment has been us (as Pepsi puts it Youngistan). We may be achieving unconquered milestones every day, but we have forgotten way of living, of unrestrained thinking where every one is free to express himself, to do what he wants, of flying across the sky without any fear of hunted down! I wish we could be somewhere near to this utopian world. As Bob Marley beautifully says:
Get up Stand up
Stand for your rights
Get up Stand up
Don’t give up the fight
One more time!
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Indian Dreams
I’m sorry if the title suggests another of articles glorifying so alleged great economic strides taken by India. Lately, it has become a fashion of sorts, with every fool with no future of his own mapping Indian future with great intricacy and irrational arguments. It isn’t about any of this pseudo intellectual stuff but of modest dreams of an ordinary, middle class Indian. If I am not mistaken there are only two dreams of an average Indian male. First of a beautiful (no less than aishwarya) girl (earlier it was for a prospective wife and now of course for something else!) and other of a good job. Earlier a good job meant a sarkari job with a plush cabin which has now been replaced by an IT job (minus the cabin). As I count last minutes of a boring and monotonous day at office, I dare say I have partially achieved Indian dream (minus the girl of course). Looking at intangible, incomprehensible (I’m running short of synonyms) infinitely long codes blaring of my monitor, reminds me of two basic questions echoing within me from eons:
1. Why did I become engineer?
2. Why did I choose an illustrated software job?
Concentrating on the root cause itself, life takes me to the last of my board exams of X standard. With three months of eagerly awaited holidays (not that I studied very hard for my boards!) and a plan of Appu Ghar for next day, I reached home to one of the biggest surprises of my life. My life has never been the same since that day. One of my school teachers was awaiting me with an entrance test form of a prestigious coaching institute, which supposedly was to realize my parent’s dreams and aspirations. The dream was of a seat at sacrosanct IIT (irony it may seem, entrance for an institute who is preparing you for an entrance exam in the first place itself. Welcome to shining India!!). The night day seemed to be one of the biggest of my life, as I started evaluating my alternatives. I liked movies (everyone does), I could have become a bollywood hero, but for my looks. I could have become a director, but didn’t had any direction of my own. I could have become a cricketer, but wasn’t talented enough. Crossing every option I was left with no other option but devil itself.
As tutor wrote an intangible (Gosh!! this intangibility has struck to me ever since) differential equations describing motion of a stone (Had stone knew complexity of its motion, I swear it wouldn’t have moved its whole life.), I knew my dark ages have begin whose renaissance is still awaited by me. This was followed by aeroplanic (please bear with this word), figures of organic compounds. Casanova H used to join any of O girlfriends depending upon the mood (solvent) and we brahamchari’s were told to follow his romantics and predict his next move. Those equations and aero planes make me feel like dyslexic (Taare Zaamen Per Hein have glamorized this word.) even today. Two years of dark ages followed with a curfew on movies, cricket and anything remotely useful and then came the day of pre Armageddon (big day was at a distance).
I sat in examination room with a bundle of sheets, which people were referring to as question paper, staring at the meticulous students cribbing on rough sheets. I knew absolutely nothing and marked the choices as per my wishes (intelligence, it should have been!!). I knew I would never get selected and my parent’s dreams would be shattered and mine would be re ignited.
After a month of respite result were declared and by God’s grace (rather disgrace) I passed the preliminary hurdle. As a penance to one month break my desk was flooded with even difficult study material with every conceivable metaphorical nomenclature. This was supposed to prepare me for final hurdle, but really broke the wrestler itself. Curfew became more stringent and emergency replacing democracy was declared. Day of Armageddon (8 hours of mental torture!!) was followed by a two month period of giving other less illustrious entrance exams. As the day of result approached my parent’s were becoming more and more restless and were amazed at my indifference and calmness towards the results.
This time results came on expected lines (my expectations, I mean) and I was treated by another shock from which I am still recuperating …………………………….
1. Why did I become engineer?
2. Why did I choose an illustrated software job?
Concentrating on the root cause itself, life takes me to the last of my board exams of X standard. With three months of eagerly awaited holidays (not that I studied very hard for my boards!) and a plan of Appu Ghar for next day, I reached home to one of the biggest surprises of my life. My life has never been the same since that day. One of my school teachers was awaiting me with an entrance test form of a prestigious coaching institute, which supposedly was to realize my parent’s dreams and aspirations. The dream was of a seat at sacrosanct IIT (irony it may seem, entrance for an institute who is preparing you for an entrance exam in the first place itself. Welcome to shining India!!). The night day seemed to be one of the biggest of my life, as I started evaluating my alternatives. I liked movies (everyone does), I could have become a bollywood hero, but for my looks. I could have become a director, but didn’t had any direction of my own. I could have become a cricketer, but wasn’t talented enough. Crossing every option I was left with no other option but devil itself.
As tutor wrote an intangible (Gosh!! this intangibility has struck to me ever since) differential equations describing motion of a stone (Had stone knew complexity of its motion, I swear it wouldn’t have moved its whole life.), I knew my dark ages have begin whose renaissance is still awaited by me. This was followed by aeroplanic (please bear with this word), figures of organic compounds. Casanova H used to join any of O girlfriends depending upon the mood (solvent) and we brahamchari’s were told to follow his romantics and predict his next move. Those equations and aero planes make me feel like dyslexic (Taare Zaamen Per Hein have glamorized this word.) even today. Two years of dark ages followed with a curfew on movies, cricket and anything remotely useful and then came the day of pre Armageddon (big day was at a distance).
I sat in examination room with a bundle of sheets, which people were referring to as question paper, staring at the meticulous students cribbing on rough sheets. I knew absolutely nothing and marked the choices as per my wishes (intelligence, it should have been!!). I knew I would never get selected and my parent’s dreams would be shattered and mine would be re ignited.
After a month of respite result were declared and by God’s grace (rather disgrace) I passed the preliminary hurdle. As a penance to one month break my desk was flooded with even difficult study material with every conceivable metaphorical nomenclature. This was supposed to prepare me for final hurdle, but really broke the wrestler itself. Curfew became more stringent and emergency replacing democracy was declared. Day of Armageddon (8 hours of mental torture!!) was followed by a two month period of giving other less illustrious entrance exams. As the day of result approached my parent’s were becoming more and more restless and were amazed at my indifference and calmness towards the results.
This time results came on expected lines (my expectations, I mean) and I was treated by another shock from which I am still recuperating …………………………….
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Nostalgia
Watching Eucalyptus adorning Rishikesh hills passing by the train window, with Gilmour and company humming the chords reminds me of the boulevard of mango trees cutting across spawning BHU campus, of unending nights invested in listening to psychedelic, of treats given by seniors( though sometimes reluctant and compelled). As nostalgia starts haunting me, its cobwebs strangling me, I often get into the deep thinking what a scholar say of life after college. Past one year, since passing out of BHU, has brought many changes in life.Now, I don’t need to think twice before buying a pair of jeans or can of beer, but somehow I realize I don’t cherish them as much as I used to during the frugal academic years. Hundred Rupees spent on dinner seemed more but fruitful than spending 2K at discosques. Corporate life has brought its own disciplines with it and life has been restricted what we call a Time Table. As Gilmour sings A great day for freedom, I realize no other song can be more apt in depicting my unrequited need (which seems a wish now), of releasing me of the corporate strings tying me and dragging me down at this moment.
Waking up on rainy days, weathering heavy storms, as I reach my office I can’t stop my self thinking of IT days of clinging on to my dilapidated bed in my web covered sweet room. As I face my boss looking like a devil in a prada shooting a flurry of questions inquiring my by-default habit of coming late to office, then seemingly monstrous professors with fleet of their viva questions seems kind and amiable. Sitting in front of TFT screen with lines of infinitely long incomprehensible codes blazing in front of my eyes makes me think of sweet mushy movies I used to watch on my Master-driven system. Jovial, belittling and loud conversations have now been replaced by dry and humorless and often sarcastic whispers. Sense of camaraderie (shown especially during end semester) has somehow lost in ugly and dark competitive corporate world. Gone are days where a talk started from a cup of tea and ended on America, now we talk only about our Leads and onsite.
Orkut and Gtalk have become only mean of clinging on to your past. As I suddenly realize my friends with whom I used to hang out 24 hours a day have suddenly become my past and I haven’t met most of them for a year and may not be able to meet ever, tears drip down my moist eyes.
Watching kids playing cricket from train window reminds me of gymkhana grounds, of Adel in our very own Rajputana grounds and Spardha, which can beat the charisma and enthusiasm of an Olympics any day any time (Chinese can learn a bit of sportsmanship from us). Sitting in front of client trying to answer his intangible queries takes me to LC hangouts during eve of a periodical and then begging GMAT’s for class notes at night.
Lonesome dinners at home (mostly Maggi) reminds of the mouth watering Dhaba delicacies (especially awesome chilly chicken) followed by liters of beer.
My longing for college life didn’t seem to end, rather keeps on intensifying with time. With twilight fading away, sun setting down for a new rising and Waters finally playing Wish You were here I wish my BHU would return just for once with all my friends and even foe which would take me back to heaven named IT-BHU. But Truth and reality of so called Professional life make me realize the sweetness of those “old” past.
Waking up on rainy days, weathering heavy storms, as I reach my office I can’t stop my self thinking of IT days of clinging on to my dilapidated bed in my web covered sweet room. As I face my boss looking like a devil in a prada shooting a flurry of questions inquiring my by-default habit of coming late to office, then seemingly monstrous professors with fleet of their viva questions seems kind and amiable. Sitting in front of TFT screen with lines of infinitely long incomprehensible codes blazing in front of my eyes makes me think of sweet mushy movies I used to watch on my Master-driven system. Jovial, belittling and loud conversations have now been replaced by dry and humorless and often sarcastic whispers. Sense of camaraderie (shown especially during end semester) has somehow lost in ugly and dark competitive corporate world. Gone are days where a talk started from a cup of tea and ended on America, now we talk only about our Leads and onsite.
Orkut and Gtalk have become only mean of clinging on to your past. As I suddenly realize my friends with whom I used to hang out 24 hours a day have suddenly become my past and I haven’t met most of them for a year and may not be able to meet ever, tears drip down my moist eyes.
Watching kids playing cricket from train window reminds me of gymkhana grounds, of Adel in our very own Rajputana grounds and Spardha, which can beat the charisma and enthusiasm of an Olympics any day any time (Chinese can learn a bit of sportsmanship from us). Sitting in front of client trying to answer his intangible queries takes me to LC hangouts during eve of a periodical and then begging GMAT’s for class notes at night.
Lonesome dinners at home (mostly Maggi) reminds of the mouth watering Dhaba delicacies (especially awesome chilly chicken) followed by liters of beer.
My longing for college life didn’t seem to end, rather keeps on intensifying with time. With twilight fading away, sun setting down for a new rising and Waters finally playing Wish You were here I wish my BHU would return just for once with all my friends and even foe which would take me back to heaven named IT-BHU. But Truth and reality of so called Professional life make me realize the sweetness of those “old” past.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
