Bookworm

Something's missing ......

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 03:28:00 +0000

And here I land again now, at the United States, tired of the long journey, indifferent and uncomfortable - indifferent to my beloved job which strangely was the primary purpose of the visit and uncomfortable because ‘something’ important was left back home; ‘something’ that should have been with me; ‘something’ that has never been away, never alone, never with anybody else. But what this ‘something’ was? was the query that haunted, the answer to which was unbelievable - unbelievable because it was distinct to my persona. It was a no-brainer. I just cannot have had entered that forbidden zone – that’s just not me. But then, I have had my share of stints in life that were either humbling experiences or beautiful surprises for me. This one I guess was the epitome of the ‘highs’. Nothing so beautiful had ever happened … but then the pain. Such a stark contrast over the emotions of being happy of losing ‘something’ that has never been away, amazing to say the least is this experience. But then there was unrest because that ‘something’ was left back home. And of course that ‘something’ was with me till the sky turned November this year. And I was so sure of everything previously – happily married to my job, working hard and with the sole focus on the professional whims going forward.

This November, ‘someone’ came in and disturbed the equilibrium, changed all the equations and distracted me from my beloved vocation and most importantly took that ‘something’ away. But then how could I allow this to happen to me, is the question worth a trillion bucks. Trillion dollar question indeed – and further I could ridicule anyone with the fact that even after losing that ‘something’ special to that ‘someone’ special I was overjoyed. Losing ‘something’ – overjoyed – getting away – disturbed, disheartened and distracted. The only surety with these emotions was that of being confused.

But then, now that I am here 14k kilometers away from my special ‘something’ with that special ‘someone’, I was uncomfortable. And, while I have reached this home, away from home here, I was about to pay for my ride from the airport, I checked my pocket on the left-hand-side of my shirt and felt warmth and moistness on my hand – it was my blood.

My ‘heart’ was missing from its place … and hence the sweet pain.

Main kabhi yeh keheta nahi ....

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 07:16:00 +0000

‘You better take … (loss of voice, soreness) … good care of yourself. Be very cautious of your health and …’ she couldn’t actually control the dizziness in the voice and the soreness of the vocal cords because. All I could do was to keep nodding, I had lost the count of the number of times she had repeated her instructions now. She would just not get tired of it and do it every time without fail.

‘It is just a matter of six months and then I will be back. What’s the big deal?’

She waited, smiled and said ‘You would know it when you will be a father. Then I will see if you will consider it as a big deal or what.’ I could not say anything, just had to keep quite.

My mum is not very fond of us (me and bro) getting away. She hates my job which might demand extended stays away and sometimes even abroad. Every time when I use to leave, she will be ready with her instructions and gushy see-offs. And I do not like them one bit. I hate when she cries, especially on these occasions as I feel that I am making her cry. This makes me feel bad, more so because it prompts me of the fact that I would really not be around in person for her. On top of that, I cannot express this explicitly which aggravates the pain further.

While it was already the time to leave, we both did not realize that. In fact it seemed that the cruel clock was sprinting in the sheer fun of seeing me getting parted of my mum. While, no doubt, that she was crying, I also strangely experienced some blurred vision. I touched my eyes and felt the chilliness around with the swift breeze rubbing over my tears ….

Mum … I too am scared of darkness … (par andhere se darta hu main maa).

The smell of dying bachelorhood …

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 04:25:00 +0000

Though I could perceive that mundane aggressive writings can be a little agonizing in certain circumstances, but had never experienced anything for real until recently this my very own blog caused a little ‘sweet’ trouble.

Though I would hate revealing this; and it’s just against the self-claimed and undocumented rules of blogging, I will have to – for that there has been a request raised via my personal ‘Right To Information’ propaganda from within. So here I declare that,

Whatever have I written till date – published or unpublished content – anything or everything that exists on this blog – is utter fiction / fake / unreal / imagination / ghetto / creatively invented / imaginary content which is not related directly to any living or non living entity that existed ever.

I know that this could actually kill all my efforts that have ever been put in to inculcate a notion that my writings are natural and true to divinity every time, but I have no option whatsoever. Also, I will not skip to mention this critical fact that this entry / post is the only exception to the claimed statement.

What concerns me, however, is not the fact that I have broken this unsung rule, but why did I broke it? What has changed all of a sudden that’s causing this aberration? A close introspection reveals that something is troubling the monotony in my life. Something is in grave danger now of getting extinct!! And that precisely is causing a lot of things to behave unnaturally. My beloved ‘Informatica’ and ‘SQL Server’ are not fascinating me anymore, which is scary. Surprisingly, I am eating less, degraded interest in - hanging around with pals; watching some exiting cricket match underway etal. Also at the same time I have developed a few bad habits like ‘texting’ while working, skipping voluntary business calls etc. The cause for all this possibly is the tiring bachelorhood.

The irony – I am not sure if anything can be done to fix this aberration; I am not sure if I am liking this or otherwise. Utter confusion as ever …. wish me solace.

The utter “chronic” discomfort ....... its killing me.

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 19:49:00 +0000

The last couple of days have been terrible to say the least. I cannot think of anything else but her. I have been eating less, losing interest in surfing, rope skipping (the flashy past-time I have been flaunting over since a few months now), driving etal. All of a sudden, especially from the last few days, those memories are haunting me again. That simplicity and innocence is haunting. That aura of positive energy that surrounded her is haunting. The fact that I might be deprived of that flawless smile and persona for the rest of the lifetime is almost causing the adrenalin to freeze and choke and ‘the bodily fluids causing acute depressions’ to shoot up.

This déjà vu, I have experienced a trillion times in last few years it seems. The entities, to which I do get attached emotionally, get denied always. Be it the great educational institutions I could never be a part of, the toughest ‘tests’ I could never crack, the most relishing job profiles I could never compete for and others. The only part missing till date was that none of the entities were causing any emotional pain. Thanks however to this girl now that I am suffering this painful emotional trauma that was a miss earlier.

I wonder if I could have done anything different that day. That day when I met her and her family, could I have expressed myself a little better? Could I have had taken extra care in discussion with her younger brother over his career; and with her father when he asked me about my career interests and goals; and with her cousin brother when he did asked suggestions over a career with engineering; and had ‘shy’ed away over her grandmother not asking anything but observing ‘I don’t know what’. Could I have had approved to her explicitly and could I have had told her, how much I …?

Alas, nothing of such sort did happened and all I had been left to deal with is ambiguity and hopeless in silence. I wonder, a plain denial would have had been a thousand times better, but that was not to be and here I am suffering with sleepless nights underway.

Amen …

Guilty .....

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 11:09:00 +0000

Not very long ago, I was really enjoying the work at hand; but not anymore. Surely, the driving force, till date was the quality of work, the ambience and the apt recognition and appreciation. Strangely, all these factors still exist but the zeal has been lost somewhere. Why?

A casual introspection was enough to infer the primary causes for the ‘mood-swing’:

- First and the most compelling, the chronic social and family pressure to move on in life, breed a family and succumb to the ‘bhed-chal’. This drives the urgent need to strengthen self on the financial front.

- Second, the urge to learn something new and different and to kill the utter monotony of the usual job. Also, at the same time, to put in efforts to earn skills that would enthrall credibility to my profile moving on.

Now, what these two factors might convey are some dire attributes as far as my character is concerned:

- I am greedy.

- I am unstable and unreliable.

- I am insecure.

Yes, everything said above is painfully true. I am greedy, because my being not greedy would not allow me with an option to choose the desirable life-partner. My being not greedy might be praised superficially somewhere somehow but would sadly tag me as being a risky preposition because I would not be earning enough to breed a perspective family. My being not greedy would be considered pessimistic and backward by a small but important group of people. Also, it is correct to say that I am insecure as well. Because I am a mortal soul and have had a fair share of defeats in life, I am insecure, the success that I relish and foresee as of now, might not be long-lived and hence I have to seek and preserve the alternatives well before. With a lot of external factors driving the equation, being content would not be a great idea and hence I am insecure and would continue to be like that. As from the perspective of the organization and the associated management, I might end up being a culprit – unstable, unreliable and selfish. True, all this is, for not being rewarded for the efforts financially is like a warrior being raised to a new grade in name and not in actual power.

What however, I fail to understand is why the fingers are being pointed on me when this ‘only’ is the path these mythical management gurus followed as well?

The utter discomfort ....... its killing me.

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 21:59:00 +0000

I don’t know whether to feel happy or sad, but something did happen this last time with the end of the process, especially as a reject. It is not the first time that I am relishing the job at hand and an intention to avoid any aberrations that potentially falter my agenda of being married to the job faithfully. But it is just this time that I am not liking the outcome one bit (surprisingly, it did not happened immediately but with a delay). While I have been busy with the awesome opportunity at hand and am almost on the verge of relishing the first harvest of the efforts put in, this just one ‘tete-a-tete’ with this girl had really disturbed the equilibrium, shaken the momentum. And shaken enough to cause the utter discomfort and not to mention, I am not liking it one bit. I must be busy planning, dreaming and living the good times at present and near future, but just cannot because of the discomfort.

Though there wasn’t anything special with this girl, rather it was the simplicity and innocence that one could notice and ignore instantaneously as I did. But yet it was the same simplicity that beckons now and is causing the discomfort. The more I am trying to ignore, avoid and get engaged to the work, the more the increase in the discomfort.

Just wondering why at all I am writing this at ~3:00 AM nascent morning or late night soaked in the black and not sleeping post a tiring journey. Why can I not ignore that face that is flashing with simplicity and shyness and sleep sound? Why is that I am now bothered if I could have had done something to topple the outcome that day? Holy why I had to choose Information Technology as my profession and had to be deeply in love with the work? Why I could not have been a ‘Finance Guy’ or an ‘MBA Gimmick’ etal? Had the things been different then? I just wonder. But wait … why at all I want the things to be different? Am I not in love with the job anymore? Did something happen with such a magnanimous impact that I am planning to shed loyalties? What was so special about that simplicity I wonder? What was so special about that girl?

Wish me sound sleep and luck to get out of this dilemma ….. amen !!

This one is tricky …

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Fri, 27 May 2011 20:04:00 +0000

Well this is actually the trillionth time that I have written this line – ‘This is actually the trillionth time’ in the mode forcefully penning down something again. And believe you me, this one is real tricky. Though I have to say a lot of other stuff regarding – my terrible times searching a new job, me getting into the dream job (my current employer), then me enjoying the awesome aura and ambiance at the new workplace, then me being rated (somehow – miracles do happen) as the ‘best employee’ a couple of times (that might also blatantly justify my being away from my blog for such a long time) and blah, blah, blah …. But let me not deviate from the austerity of this one.

This one is real tough. Tougher than the mother of all examinations the CAT (aka the Common Admission Test) (this is a subjective view so ‘fill in the blank’ as per your whims and fancies.). And the worst part, there are no coaching programs available for this, no online help or otherwise. Not to mention the immense pressure from the parents and the beloved relatives. And everything is so secondary with this; can’t enjoy my beloved IPL or the Grand Slam or even a pity Movie for that matter (Pirates 4 is already in from a few weeks now.). That is exactly why I am planning to post this crap today so early morning (or late night for that matter).

The irony however lies in the fact that I cannot actually explicitly explain this here and invite fresh trouble from the sundry readers (may it be that you have been my best buddy since long – no matter still). But still I want to categorically announce here that something wrong is happening with me, something blasphemous that is breaking the trivial (25 years old) monotony and I am terribly not liking it at all. So in case any abnormalities in my behavior are observed, then I wish to be pardoned for all that. Please bear with me.

Now, also to make any sense out of all this crap, let me try to share a very known short story that is exactly similar to the way I am feeling right now. This is a story of a cute little young bunny that used to work hard at the farms to fetch the best of the red carrots all for himself and only himself, then after a hard day at the farms he used to roam around freely, enjoying his time with other fellow bunnies during the evening. But this was not liked by the evil old bunnies and they planned a trap to get hold of this cute bunny. The old bunnies had their own complex mechanisms to create traps which were unbreakable and beyond the capabilities of the cute bunny. Hence he was trapped and put under a lifetime house arrest. And then he lived UNhappily ever after ….

End of the story ....

There are certain things that are just not acceptable at a workplace .....

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 16:19:00 +0000

This post was not planned! But is an outcome of outrage. Seriously. Is there or not a limit to everything? Seriously. And yes .. so, is a limit to my cautious as well. There are certain things that are just not acceptable at a workplace, even if you go by the least professional standards (and of course we are not talking about the PSUs of India). I mean if you want to categorize unacceptable workplace behaviors into conduct-levels and go by examples in the way that follows, this the-crime-under-discussion will fall in the category of the gravest possible.

Level-1-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time you take the official stationary back home (remember that office notepad which is now your landline-take-a-note-pad at home or that bunch of pens that proved to be handy in the recent family-get-together-celebration-lotto game?)

Level-2-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time you use your desk land line phone to make calls to your friends during the office hours. Or every time when you bribe the cab driver to alter the route and drop you at some other "disclosed" location.

Level-3-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time you take those prolonged sutta or coffee breaks just to discuss (or even watch the day games in the cafeteria) the cricket match India played against Sri Lanka (Having already been registered in the record books for playing the most number of matches against each other, these encounters now look like any other List A match played in the country side. I will praise them some other day.) and your communicator shows 'Away' or 'Be Right Back' status message for almost half of the working day.

Level-4-breach-of-conduct *

Occurs every time when you submit those FAKE bills claiming for medical or leave travel allowances. Or the FAKE rent receipts with an exaggerated claim amount when you actually own the house (and in fact have tenants already paying the rent to you).

*[Please note that this segregation is not a part of some management gimmick (like say a CMMI Level x or something) but something absolutely fictional. Please feel free to suggest changes to this before I file a claim to register it as an industry standard (LxBOC Standard ... or some other fancy name). And also note that just because I have listed these different ways of mis-conduct, it does not mean that I have actually gone to the level of experimenting with all these.]

But this the-crime-under-discussion hardly falls under any of the mentioned categories. And to my understanding requires a lot of guts (informal) and innovation (formal). Now without any further annoying delay, here is what the-crime-under-discussion is, straight from the crime scene:

No no! not an overdose of marijuana. Also not a case of work killing an employee. It is what it looks like - plain simple sleeping in the office. If you are already doubting that I have faked this image (inspired by the hardworking editors (Image Editors) found at the award winning news channels) to cook up a breaking news , here are a few more untampered snaps:

(Had this had been only the case of a silent sleep and there had been no monotonous snoring chords accompanying this act and had I myself was not feeling like sleeping and thus feeling envy - my left over self esteem never allowed me to take a shot at this; I would have never have raised any voice over this.)

Now if some of you are already wondering and analyzing all the possible permutations of how is this a possibility and what would have had happened if only I would have tried to bring this matter to light (Yes, I did that after the 'n'th occurrence of this event, where n is a sufficiently large number.):

But nothing much happened and it turned out that public rage on issues like these is confined only to Bollywood flicks (and now a days, only to Tollywood movies) and what I got was a universal snub:

And when everybody else was least bothered with this, I was convinced that this is a case of 'mass-bribery-to-influence-the-jury'. Now even till this instant I was not in a mood to publicize this act and kept faith in the system and believed that this act will be considered as a sever behavioral misconduct in the office premise and will hamper the annual appraisal claim for the convict.

But as the fate unfolded it did happened that the convict turned out to be the 'star performer' in the team and got a staggering 43% pay-hike (I don't know which/what calculations led to this figure) and as a reward for my misconduct and unacceptable behavior (trying to hinder the 'sleeping patterns' of the star performer), my appraisal has been kept on a halt since the last 6 months and my confirmation has been delayed till any further notice.

More than awed by how the things unfolded, I was in sheer desperation to figure out what the hell went wrong or right. One of my close (professional) friends, who, somehow felt the unrest and discomfort I was going through came to me and said:

"The convict and our manager like the same brand of scotch, like the same brand of cigarettes and the same smoker zone, like the same bar nearby, like chicken tikka .... and you my dear friend are a non smoker, non drinker, vegetarian fool ...."

So !!!!

now I know that there are certain things that are just not acceptable at a workplace - you cant afford to be a non smoker, non drinker, vegetarian, all at the same time.

The Maestro Cabbies – Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sat, 12 Jun 2010 05:19:00 +0000

Because, fortunately, despite of my absolute uselessness and unparalleled technical illiteracy, I have a job at hand; and because I am 'differently-abled' when it comes to driving skills, I had to opt for the company transport arrangement (not a facility mind you, even calling it an 'arrangement' is an 'understatement'). It is not that I have something against the cab drivers or the company verticals but it is because this service taught me that some things know no limits at all, (they remain the same no matter what may happen), that I am mentioning the secrets of its success out here.

I was actually so impressed with the hospitality and professionalism of the cabbies that I decided to research a little bit on this. The cab service is a tender cum lottery based system (actually the 'weight' of payment 'down-under' is the only criteria) that decides the vendor. Now irrespective of whoever the vendor is, the cabbies never change (they manage their internal poaching, resignations and hiring meticulously within themselves). They are very fond of the company and feel like home while working (even though the employees using the service feel like hell). Also not to mention … okk this description might take the entire post making the whole purpose of writing the post obsolete. So here I have the actual exclusive footage of the most experienced cabbie 'on the floor' …. Presenting Kalloo the cabbie amongst cabbies, the king of jams (traffic wale jams) and the GTA Vice City male lead in physical and biological form:

Now our great man here is a master of his game. If he is the one who has to pick you up, then you are in the safest pair of hands. Whatever may happen, he will ensure that you get a half-day off in the office – so good he is with his mathematics that he never ever hits the deadline of reaching the office. Let me make it more clear with an example – If suppose you have to reach the office by 8:30 AM for some urgent meeting and he is the one going to pick you up, then not only will he wake you up by shooting missed calls after every 5 mins starting from 5 AM in the morning, but also he will ensure that you wait for him under the scorching sun at the pick-up point making you enjoy the chilly summer time. As soon as he enters the adjacent block, you can identify that Kalloo is coming to pick you up; that is the charisma of his deadly car stereo playing some 'hot-Haryanvi-numbers' at non-permissible decibel levels. Few of them are really good – '(free of cost)-(piss-off)' tablets. Let me list them down so that those of you interested can download the stuff (It was surprisingly easy to find these on yt, it seems they have a healthy fan following):

· Are re meri jaan hai radha, blab la

· Medam beth bulero mein, pesal tere khatar layaya

(Kalloo himself helped me with the lyrics of this one)

Also, believe it or not, he sometimes actually wears a shirt or some clothing as well! Now to get an idea of the impeccable communication skills here is an excrept of an actual conversation between an employee [EMP] (who volunteered only on the condition that his/her name would not be disclosed – Kalloo [KAL]* has friends in political cadres (synonym for criminal organizations) after all):

[*KAL is an alias being used for Kalloo, not some intentional hindi word, even sarcasm should have a limit to it!]

4:45 AM, Monday Morning: KAL shoots his first missed call.

5:00 AM: 2nd missed call.

5:10 AM: EMP calls back –

EMP: हेल्लो, कौन बोल रहा है?

KAL: अरे हम बोल रहे हैं, कल्लू.
आपका पिचक उप है ना? हम आ रहे हैं ८ बजे, तैयार रहिएगा.

EMP: यार अभी तो ५ बजे हैं, हद है.

KAL: अरे हद क्या है, हमे बोला गया की पिचक उप है तो कंफिर्म कर रहे थे.
आप चौड़े क्यों हो रहे हैं.

EMP: क्या? तमीज से बात करो यार .. तुम ...

KAL: ऐसा है फेले आप तमीज सीखिए फिर हमे बोलना.

EMP: मैं तुम्हारी कंप्लेंट करने वाला हू. ८:३० बजे की पिक्क उप के लिए सुबह ५ बजे
कॉल कर रहे हो.

KAL: हाँ कर दो कोम्प्लैन और देख लो किसका क्या बिगड़ता है.
व्हो ओखला वाले शर्मा जी का क्या हल हुआ था पता है ना आपको.

EMP: अरे यार नाराज़ मत हुआ करो, जब तुम्हारी मर्ज़ी हो तब आ जाना.

So this way the obedient employees keep coming to the company working their way out, just to be dropped back (though delayed by an hour or two .. so what? Are you going to file a complaint?) later in the day by Kalloo etal.

True Achievement

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 08:04:00 +0000

It is a story never told before, story of an individual who achieved what he wanted successfully, coming over (not overcoming) all odds. This is the story of Me.

When Me was a child, it never looked like he had shades of such a talent. It was only after the schooling that the impeccable talent was unleashed and Me started building up on his gift.

The first time it came into the public eye was the summer of 2003. Against all odds, as a surprise for all well-wishers Me came out with what was unexpected. He cracked the great engineering entrance examination. Err .. not the exam but he cracked all the chances to get through with the superb and immaculate uselessness of his. Not only did he cracked the coveted entrance examination but also the other potential options making it absolutely sure that nothing comes to his way when it is about excelling in his gifted art of uselessness.

After the compromise, next was the continual cracking of the other minor hurdles - examinations and tests. But like any other talented individual, Me too had some downs in his journey and unfortunately did succeeded in a few of the hurdles.

Again he showed the signs of his greatness when he cracked almost all his chances to get through any of the campus recruiters, until finally a glitch led to him making into one of them.

As they say, talent cannot be kept hidden for long, Me too came back strongly to ensure that he ruins all his chances to get into quality work for the living and started up with the back office service industry crap. But that proved only the beginning.

The latter half of 2008 can be regarded as the peak of his achievements, when he not only successfully screwed the job but also yet another chance to get into quality education. By this time he was so good with his art that he could almost crack anything, anytime.

Now the year 2010 and he is simply the best, having already cracked almost 250 odd interviews without being penalized with a single offer. Discussions are on to regard Me as a record holder and honoring him with the life time achievement award for being useless.

We wish him all luck and may he continue achieveing failures in life. Amen!

In(terror)view Strike ... # 247

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 00:40:00 +0000

Having been kicked off the venue at JCN (name has been tampered), I was heading towards this great banking firm. With low-confidence at its lifetime best, I was finding it difficult to locate the venue. Thanks to the kind hearted, ever helpful rickshaw-pullers at Gurgaon, they made sure that I never reach the destination unless I use their coveted over paid service. After 45 mins of tussle I reached the venue.

The tower was an awesome 16 floored building with lush green surroundings. Awed with the gigantic fish pond at the reception, my day dreams were broken by the shout from the security personnel. I was thoroughly examined with metal detectors, physical-assault-on-privacy check and it was only after the backpack was submitted at the reception and the mobile phone as well because it had a functional camera, that I was cleared off.

Finally I did manage to get to the introductory presentation though late by around half an hour. They were already discussing the salary and pay packages. 30 odd people (the candidates were already screened via telephonic rounds and resume short listing) accommodated in a small room with space for only 20 of us. By the time I got adjusted and was set to listen to the coordinator it was all over and the first round, a written aptitude test was announced.

Round 1: The Aptitude Test

Absolutely sure of my technical incapability, the immaculate doubt was hovering over the aptitude level as well now. The test was an OK level visual reasoning MCQ, time limit – 30 mins. 15 mins gone and I had only worked out some 9 odd problems of 30. The girl sitting next to me was already on the next sheet, solving 18th or 23rd or 25th or who knows the 30th question already. The well perfected examination jitters came in to aggravate the situation. I rushed through the remaining problems as the test commenced. We were asked to take a coffee break till the tests may get evaluated. Good time to check out the competitors. Confident faces chatterbox, peacock shoed guys and sophisticated, mascara laden, painted girls a combination not very uncommon in the NCR region. The only thing I was sure of was that was a mismatch. Stained shoes and strained clothes because of the traveling under the beating sun of June. By the time I was low enough to run off the place without waiting for the results, the coordinator appeared and started calling the names. 3 gone, 5 gone, 10 gone, 15 gone .. 25 gone ….. I was not on the list. I knew it, I do not deserve to be here, it was a waste of time and I knew it.

‘All the names that were called just now can leave for the day. They have not cleared the written test. Rest of the people, please wait for the next round.’

Hmm … Unexpected surprise.

Round 2: The Technical F2F

I was the third of the five people to be interviewed. The panel consists of an old man (OM), a not so old man (NSOM) and a young woman (YW) (women are always young, you bet).

OM: Please take a seat and tell us something about yourself.

Me: (Yaa, right. I am a loser by birth and absolutely a champion of my art, can mess up anything anywhere. Don’t ask me to talk about myself, coz I hate myself.) I am a computer science professional (whose utopian dream of getting into an MBA college of choice has been tattered and here I am, the great loser, seeking a little mercy from you all.) with a 3 years of experience (3 years, fish! Its actually not more than 3 days, I never worked in the office) on web application development, Microsoft technologies. Completed my schools from Jaipur and (then lost my way and then) college from Noida. Father is a govt. official, mother a home maker and younger brother (who must hate to get associated with me) is pursuing engineering (from an actual college, not a gimmick, like I did).

NSOM: What is a private constructor in C#?

ME: (OMG, what is this? Never heard of this, let go attempting an answer for this) Yaa, private constructor is a constructor with a private access modifier.

NSOM: (‘very funny, even my driver has a better answer’ kind of look) That’s fine, what is the use of a private constructor?

ME: (Hang me!) I am not sure, never worked with them.

OM: What are the things one must keep in mind while writing an application with C#?

ME: (I never kept anything in mind; I just started coding … thats why? I always knew I was missing on something. ) Apart from the syntactical checks … (intercepted)

YW: The IntelliSence is there to take care of that, what else? (Say something to prove that you have some gray matter up there.)

ME: Yaa, so we should make sure that the code is a managed code that is under control of the Common Language Runtine and …..

YW: You really need to brush up your technical skills, we will give you a call if something positive comes out, you can leave as of now. (Thanks for wasting our time, get the heck out of here and never come back. You loser, even my maid is technically stronger than you are. Get your face out of my sight!!)

ME: Thanks a lot.

Same old story and I was at my best as ever ….

There is a way to be good again ...

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 25 May 2010 11:25:00 +0000

The 'white light' aka 'voice of the God' was an unbelievable phenomena for me until a day when I experienced it myself. Daydreaming, I was, as usual with the same low feeling when suddenly I felt a sensation and thus appeared the 'white light'. It said 'There is a way to be good again!' and smiled and continued

'You don't know if you will get another chance to live a moment or this is the last one. Live it to the fullest. Its OK if you fail, you goof up. No one is perfect and never ever is going to be. Don't ever feel that you are immortal. The only thing immortal about you is the unbelievable potential you possess. Go for it, put your best effort upfront in everything before it is too late. Life is not two dimensional (win or lose) everywhere. The most important thing is putting in the best effort, that is what separates a 'man of god' from a devil. Don't feel like a loser and put in the best effort in everything.

Remember, there is always a way to be good again!'

That thing I did .... haunts !!

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Fri, 21 May 2010 20:32:00 +0000

1999, being naive to the circumstances, my mum and I both were probably unaware of the fact that this defining moment would prove to be crucial in shaping up the future events in my life. It was not common, in fact it was the first major 'f' (the dreaded f-word, not the one that is popular now a days with enriched f-vocab.) for me. Ever since childhood I had seen people around - relatives, neighbors, known ones and not so known ones torturing other children, making them feel inferior to me because they had claimed 'an' 'f'. May be this crap is out here because of some malfunctioning in my wretched brain, but I must admit I never felt that bad, in fact felt great until one day i was on the other side - the receiving end. I got an 'f'!

Had I been kicked, scolded and tortured thoroughly, things would have been different, I think. But it was not the case, I was protected, pampered and isolated of the beating (at least I felt it that way). It did helped and saved me from the temporary beating but the 'not visible at that time' emotional damage it caused was to inculcate a permanent fear from 'f' and no life after an 'f' kind of feeling. This was the defining moment and I admit that till date the ghost haunts me.

'f' by the way is failure/fail/failed/failing/will-fail etal.

I shall over come one day ....... all alone.

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 12:06:00 +0000

I wonder if this is a psychological problem with me, or it is normal for individuals to be like this. With a ‘highly’ useless and unproductive job and the hat-trick of failures (duration: last 1000 days) in the pathway of long cherished MBA dreams, I feel the need of some external factor, guidance of motivation to get going. Disappointments, ‘ohh’s and ‘ahh’s are ok, I am ok with it, and are expected after all. But the trouble area is the shaken faith and belief. Being passively mocked and snubbed for the failures is normal and not new, but now the self belief has taken a beating and that’s a problem.

I need somebody, someone who understands me and can honestly say to me: ‘I believe in you, and you will do it one day. Just DON’T give up.’ I hope that’s not being unreasonable. I think support is something that drives an individual, helps him face the failures. I never purchased it, too mean to support someone, too selfish to encourage someone. And thus, appropriately, I am suffering.

Let us get going and see how it concludes, for one thing is a surety that lack of encouragement might not be a ‘strength’ but it will not be a ‘threat’ either. I shall get there one day!!

I (not We) shall overcome one day!!

Amen ........

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 14:12:00 +0000

It is indeed true that the best friend cum foe you have is yourself. More than anything else that shapes your deeds, it is you. Cringe for a factor to motivate and you may end up cringing unless of course you are fortunate enough to have people, positive vibes and most importantly the ever valuable ‘attitude’ (something just like success that is counted sweetest by those who are short of this rare commodity.).

During the period when I was grunting and groaning but importantly not working hard enough, in fact, not working at all for achieving a dream stature, I realized that I was one of the never ending mass of crowd that shows up everywhere to celebrate achievements and failures of sung and unsung heroes and villains but never wish to play the lead ever. It was not so much fun, I bet, to let go the essential rule that ‘hard work and discipline were the most important ingredients just like apple and sugar in an apple pie’. Besides now that I have had enough occasions being celebrated with a pale apple-less and sugar-less pie, I know that I have chosen myself to be a ‘laureate-de-frustratio’ (no such word/degree/honor exists.) and the only threat to it is the faint chance I may get distracted and go for a golden baked, sweet and naturally flavored apple pie some day …. Amen!!

The gifted fool ....

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sun, 13 Sep 2009 19:36:00 +0000

'In India we do not have Heroes, but Super Heroes.'

- some intellectual guy.

This boy somehow was good at studies when young, good in comparison to all those belonging to the narrow influential domain of relatives, peers, neighbours, aunts - uncles - their connected domains. Since ages he was bombarded with accolades and praises for all academic achievements. He was made to believe that he was special, that he may never fail, that he has been graced with brilliance as a gift from god, that he may not be good at anything else because he was good with studies, that he is a role model for plethora of 'ordinary' individuals, that he was special ....

Then one day, it was a big fight and a prestigious stage, it was expected that it will be a piece of cake for him, but then he did not delivered ... he failed for lifetime !!! The guy was hurt, he expected all aficionados to be critical in behavior on this mis-achievement. But!

'This is just one failure man, it shall not decide the fate, you are a winner and shall be remembered as one. You can win at will, champ' 'What!! I am good with this, oh man I feel relieved.'

The boy was overjoyed, as interpreted, he could win at will.

'I will put my efforts when it will matter the most. Rest I don't like wasting time and energy over pity worldly things, I am special after all. Failures are OK, when it will be my time, I will win.'

Un-Learned ...

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 02:12:00 +0000

Missing those good old days was always great, good leisurely activity. Those exaggerated success stories and exaggerated good, great time with friends. But how good was to ruin and underrate what I had that precise moment? It was hurting and unpleasant but I had learnt a good past and a not so good present. And I was learning to live a not so good present and eventually not so good future. And because I was good at learning, I kept on learning more and more making it much difficult to live a good present. In the process I realized that what I am learning is not good to learn, I had to do something to counter it; I had to-not to do this. But how do I do that? How do I counter it? How do I …. Unlearn??

Unlearn. Unlearn that, those, which was past. Unlearn that past decides present and present the future. Unlearn that I was good ones upon; I was a good old days champion. Unlearn that ‘it aint gonaa happen again’.

The more I unlearned, the more I was open to new learning. To unlearn was a good feeling and a great learning.

Ordinary ..... (Déjà vu)

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sun, 24 May 2009 12:13:00 +0000

Some day in April 2007, 02:00 AM

‘Who …. Ohh Ani sir, yaar he is a good guy but a bit low at confidence.’

‘He is an average guy, good at programming because of Tarun sir’s influence. I have seen him working on codes, he is apprehensive and very non technical in approach – worried more about indentation, décor and nomenclature than the actual code.’

‘Ok here he comes … hi sir.’

As I got inside my room after the customary shower after the customary four hour sleep, I was surprised to see the juniors in my room in the wee hours of the morning, and then the very next instant I got the connection. Abhi was not in the hostel so they had, by the book, approached their secondary point of contact.

‘Wassup guys, so late in the night? Good boys sleep at this time.’

‘Then why are you awake?’

‘Hmm good question …. I guess we all are bad boys then.’ We all chuckled and almost forgot that others might be sleeping. It was the irritated look at Akshay’s face that made me realize that we have intruded his sound short-live sleep.

‘Ok guys, let us get into the common room, it’s not good to earn curses just before the final exams.’ It was all muted grins this time. I switched off the table lamp, latched the door and we moved to the common room.

I saw the laptop and the rickety note book in their hands. ‘No guys, no technical questions for me. I am not good at this stuff, just good at the mumbo-jumbo talks. Let’s do that, not this yaar … please I beg to you.’ I wish I had said these words, but it was too late now, we were in the common room.

‘Sir, this image compression thing is not working. Abhi sir helped us with the code yesterday but the result is not as desired. Please see what can be the issue here. ’

‘Ok let’s see.’

………………………….

03:30 AM

‘Are sir … you are a rock star. Thanks a lot for the help.’ They had a relieved look at their face. But I bet it was more relieving for me than it was for them. The hollow impression prevails – somevoice saves me yet again. I relived the past.

Someday in December 2001, at school 02:00 PM – day time.

‘Hey Ani, see this problem yaar. This multivariable equation thing is crap yaar, please help me.’ Then the conspired smile ‘The teacher praises you every other day; let’s see if you can get me through this.’

‘Shit yaar, even I am facing trouble with this stuff. It needs a lot of practice to master mathematics, why don’t you understand; I am not a magician that you come to with a celebrated tough problem and get the solution just like that.’ I never said that.

‘Hmm, let’s see.’

………………………….

02:55 PM

‘You are a rock star dude. Thanks a lot, I ll get you some more problems that are troubling me.’

It was a smile of relief on my face.

Someday in October 2008, at the company 02:00 PM after the lunch.

‘Hey jain, I have heard that you are good at quant? Yaar please help us out with this ‘distance and time’ problem man.’

‘No sir, it’s not like that. I am not that good but ….’

‘Are yaar dhek to ek baar … and besides everybody knows that you are preparing for the entrance exams.’

‘Ok sir, let me see that.’

………………………….

Next day, lunch time.

I rushed to Atif sir and pushed the solution on the desk.

‘I have solved it sir – 3 mins.’

’Well this is a good approach yaar, the mistake I committed was with the variation in the velocity of sound. It has been quite a while that I was thorough with this stuff. Thanks anyways … you are a rock star. ‘

Well yes I may be, but I doubt that. By the way, is this the way one defines the real déjà vu, I guess not.

Ordinary .... (Excerpt)

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Thu, 14 May 2009 13:31:00 +0000

This was my chance to erase the imprints of the infamous loss to the fragile D-Block team. The Super-six game-six overs in all; I occupied the crease with Gautam to chase down a target of 126 runs. Raju was standing on the other end, ready to deliver the first ball, the common-field all set, Vishal cheering from the stands with the monotonic ‘come-on’ cries, the make shift umpires analyzing the length and dimensions of the home, and Gautam shouting ‘shorter boundary Ani, shorter boundary.’ I recalled a situation, very similar and unpleasant, class 8th board examinations, when I had similar apprehensions and the same horrible some-voice echoed, ‘if you lose it would be humiliation yet again’.
‘Wait I am not ready to take this, I cannot accept this challenge. I just ….’ I never said those words, but the facial expressions revealed them all over. What if I fail yet again? What if … another one? No, I cannot stand the same depression, it’s just not possible, I have to win, and there is just no other alternative available. I just have to ..
As Raju took off with the familiar run up, he looked different, was it today that he was running so fast, fuming in to deliver the ball – or was he the same routine bowler, I have been facing all these years. The ball left the hand, swinging in air, landed just a bit fuller in length, a perfect half-volley, a sitter, a gift. A powerful swing of the bat, my eyes closed at the perfect imperfect time, and a miss! The sound of the stick getting uprooted, then falling head on, then toppling, and then falling again; the next thing I noticed was the disappointment at Gautam’s face. I heard the cries from Raju and Amit and with them the umpire shouting ‘Minus 5 for the loss of one wicket’.
Why me, why am I like this? Why I cannot deliver when it matters the most? Why me always? I felt like my shoulders were heavier than ever, I felt like throwing away the bat – which I doubt had transformed its chemical composition, getting heavier and heavier.
Gautam came running, ‘Forget it yaar Ani, just try and squeeze a single. I will see him through. We will manage the runs in Amit’s over.’ He grinned, probably to assure me I think, as he rushed to occupy the home at the other end.
As I saw the second ball, short of length, wide-outside off making its way and a perfectly miss-timed upper cut carved of the willow followed – straight to the insanely-square third man position, where waited the anxious pair of hands and eyes ...
…………………….
Last 10 minutes:
‘Three balls left and 23 runs required’ shouted the short square-leg umpire. Panting and sweating, Gautam came to me yet again, ‘Bro this is our last chance, just eye the 8-box, straight over Raju’s head.’
Can I hit that far? Is it possible? Do I really deserve to win? Cut the crap …
I saw Raju steaming in, and as he started running – so did I, started walking down the pitch, an attempted yorker, not to be, a low full-toss, tossed all over the bowlers head, clearing the square, coveted 8-box with perfection. ‘It’s a maxer, 8 runs!!’ shouted Vishal.
‘117/3 with 2 ducks, 15 needed for a straight win, 14 for a win by wicket count.’ The umpires announced the score.
Amit rushed to Raju to discuss the strategy for the coming two balls and rearrange the available common-field. It had to be atleast another maxer or a topple-shot to clear the opposite 8-box between the square short third man and short fine leg, almost an impossible shot to be played, but would fetch valuable 12 runs.
What will he bowl? May be another yorker, or a slower ball, as Raju started with the run-up, I was walking down the pitch. I saw the fingers rolling over the seam, a slower ball, a swing of the bat and …
…………………….
Next year, the club championship final ceremony:
As the team posed with the trophy, Gautam stood beside me and said ‘You failed me yet again.’
We both were smiling as we posed for the group photograph.

Ordinary .... (Excerpt)

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 12 May 2009 18:26:00 +0000

Class 9th:
As I was sitting in the room waiting for ‘sir’ to come in, I could see the weary mathematics book lying on the table. Amit was sitting on the left grinning in his mischievous way as he always did – obnoxious moron. Next to him was Ajay, very calm and lost as usual. He, I wondered, did not know why he was where he was – sir came in.
‘Today we will just revise what was taught yesterday, linear equations. You will write a test.’
RS sir was an elderly figure; thick spectacles, a limping right leg, wearing a traditional semi sleeve brief and loosely tied pajamas. It seemed that he hardly shaved and if ever then not properly because I never saw him with a groomed and manicured face. The wrinkles all over the face depicted the immense experience in hand. If one believed in the visual perceptions, sir would never be judged a mathematical maestro, which he was.
‘The sum of digits of a number is one-seventh of the original number. Find the number (2 marks).
Next, find the number of integral solutions of the equation: x+y = x.y = xy (18 marks)
Solve. Remember, the cutoff is 50%’ he chuckled as he said the last sentence.
As soon as the questions were delivered, Amit, the eternal show off, pretended as if he already knew the answers. I knew that it was the second question that was the key and started working on it. Ajay was lost; he must have not even tried the first question, because he never looked like writing anything.
I was working on the 2nd problem:
x+y = x.y = xy
x+y = x.y
x – xy + y = 0
x – 2xy + y – xy = 0
(x - y)2 = xy
x – y = √xy
shitt .. I could not solve it, tried it ones again:
x.y = x.x.x.x …. y times
y = x.x.x.x …. y-1 times.
shitt … could not solve it.
‘Just 2 more minutes’ he said.
I jumped on the first question, to secure the miniscule 2 marks. As I completed the first question, rang the bell.
‘Time’s up, stop writing. Let’s see what you have done. Ajay? …. Ajay, I am talking to you.’ He almost shouted.
‘Yesss .. yes sir’
‘Show me your notebook …’ he almost snatched the notebook from his hands.
‘What …. What is this Aj ..’ he slapped the copy on the table. Ajay’s notebook had the following lines:
Solution 1:
21
………. Rest all blank.
Sir was furious, ‘What is this yaar Ajay, if you don’t want to study, then why wasting your father’s precious money. I wonder how such an intelligent man has sons like you and Nitesh. You are a disappointment not only for me but for your father as well. I have put a note here, get a signature here tomorrow, I want your father to see this.’
‘But sir, I …’
‘Shut up yaar, Amit show me what you have done.’
‘Ohh .. yes sir, I have solved the first question, the answer is 21’ he said that with such an authority as if it was one of the toughest problems ever encountered.
‘And for the second question I have been working on it and I think we will have to use differentiation and integration formulas which are beyond our syllabus, my elder brother in standard 12th has … ’
‘Are what differentiation and integration and your elder brothers, you both have disappointed me, cannot solve a simple logical question and working for NTSE’ NTSE stands for National Talent Search Examination.
‘What about you? … just tell me if you have solved the second question.’
‘No sir, I have not.’ I could see the disappointment on his face.
He declared the day as off and insisted that we work not only on conceptual but also on logical and observational skills. Later when we were walking back home, I took the notebook from Ajay’s hands; he had a dejected look on his face.
‘Are, koi naa yaar. The second problem was unsolvable and sir knows it’ said Amit as I nodded in agreement.
As I saw the note on Ajay’s notebook, he said ‘I have worked on the 2nd problem yaar, the answer is (2, 2).’
After a bit of silence, Amit chuckled, ‘This must be a joke man, how could you …. ’
‘Hey wait, the ordered pair (2, 2) satisfies the equations’ I interrupted, ‘Why you did not responded to sir in the class.’
‘He never listens. The anger was lesser on me but more on the failure of my elder brother Nitesh whom he taught and who could not get through. Tell me yaar Ani (that was my nick name), is a success in a competitive exam such an important parameter?’I was speechless.

Ordinary .... (Prologue)

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sun, 10 May 2009 04:15:00 +0000

Graduation is always a special, a memorable experience for people and probably the best phase of one’s life. When I was into my 12th standard, I was preparing and preparing hard for the IIT JEE examination. I must quote here that it was such a hard work that I gave up on cricket both watching and playing which, according to my mother was the best part of the preparation period. The good and the bad thing was that I had started enjoying the immense pressure and had set up such high and unrealistic benchmarks that eventually my own expectations were hard on me and I failed big time. Now the problem was that I had no alternative strategy, no planning to follow up the loss. Thus from a dedicated achiever of the past evolved a looser, an under-confident guy who knew nothing and did nothing, as if under the influence of sedatives or high on narcotic drugs. I got admitted to a B. Tech. degree graduation course in the year 2003, not by choice but because of the state of mental equivocation. To end up as software engineer was a social obligation and I opted for the same. Getting into some private institute with a hefty fee structure is not that difficult if you belong to a financially sound family. And even if you don’t, like me, education loan is a good but an expensive alternative. However, since I got admitted somewhere, parents were happy, grandparents were happier, relatives who mattered were happy and thus me, by analogy, had to be happy.
It was for the first time that I was moving away from home and the very thought of staying away was nostalgic. More so because now it was me to decide for me – right from choosing the shirt to wear to the management of expenses – which unfortunately I had never done. The loss of the cherished group of friends was also painful.

Things have been a bit difficult ...........

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 05 May 2009 14:48:00 +0000

Last month I had to visit my grandparent’s place, somewhere in the remote interiors of Rajasthan. I was trying to figure out a good excuse to avoid the visit yet again, but it was inevitable this time. Grandma had laid down strict instructions: ‘This time it will be you who would have to come here, not us. It has been seven years since you last visited this place.’ None of the excuses worked and we left for a 4 hours drive.

It was not like I did not wanted to meet my grandparents, in fact it was for the first time since my brother got admitted to college that we both would be seeing grandpa and grandma; but it was the place that I did not liked. I pretend to have had not so good memories of the place. Same old haweli - the tenants; the well tamed baghicha; the outer open space – the chowk; the inner small square shaped amphitheatre – the bhaithak; the main entrance gate – giving the haweli a look of a small castle - though now the gate looked like a rickety lump of wood, unable to stop the street dogs to peek through and enjoy the shady and cool chowk area. I remember the pomegranate tree in the baghicha and wondered if it still existed and if Kalu kaka – the gardener would still allow me to grab a pomegranate or two. I remember the huge water tank in the backyard carrying muddy water where in me and my cousins used to bath and pretend as if we were swimming by making absurd strokes here and there knowing that it is too shallow to get us drained. I remember the adjoining school where my grandpa was one of the cofounders and that gave us the license to use the ground to play cricket even during the school hours – I could hardly keep a count of the number of glass windows panes of the academic block, we had thrashed while playing cricket. I also remember the market next to the school where I used to force grandma to buy me sour tamarind even though it would end up choking my throat. Then I remember the mason in the market, Bhola who never forgot to offer me an orange candy, every time I would visit the market. I remember the temple where in me and Ankur used to aim, throw stones and then collect the java plums from the nursery.

Oh yes, Ankur, that is what was missing in the description. Did I mention it or not, that in every act of mine, Ankur was very much an acquaintance, a follower, an unconditional friend. His family was one of the tenants we had in our haweli. In all the mischievous acts, it would be me who would plan the activity and it would be he to try it out first. Even if he would feel like disagreeing, all he would say will be: ‘It is not good baba (that’s what he called me), dada sahib (my grandpa) and kaka sahib (my father) would get angry. But if you want I will do it for you. ’ He would get the pomegranates from the baghicha without the permission of Kalu kaka for me, he would get the cricket ball out of the restricted area of the dargah for me – I still wonder how he managed that because the watchman Rahim Khan was considered to be cruel person and specially got pissed off by children looking for cricket balls.

But how is he now? Is he okay? Then I remember grandma telling me during the last visit that he had lost his father of a stroke and is engaged in a family feud over paternal land. He was in desperate need of cash. Financial help - shall I help him, I thought. But why should I help, he is just a tenant and I am the landlord, why should I get involved into this; I have enough problems to deal with myself so why strain myself with this.

As soon as I reached the place, I saw Raju the helper, waiting for us to take the luggage. From the corner of my eye I was looking for Ankur as I passed across the chowk near his room but I found no one. It was a warm welcome from the people there. Hugs and greetings from a dozen of people, I always fail to recognize. They all analyzing me and my brother as if we were the rare endangered species they have had a chance to see. Then there were people asking about the life in Delhi and Kolkata. In all this I almost forgot about Ankur. Then in the night I asked about him and grandma told me, the poor chap has been following up with the lawyers for his dispute and the sahukars (money lenders) for the money he desperately needed, his father’s death has taken a toll of his studies as well.

The next morning I woke up early in the morning to make sure I meet Ankur before he left. But by the time I came down, he was all set to leave. He saw me, I gave a smile and he returned a little dry grin.

‘Hey how are you baba, it has been long that I have seen you here.’ His chirpy smile and enthusiasm were all gone.

‘I am fine, how about you. You look down and low.’

‘Hm, things have been a bit difficult, but I am learning to live with it. How about you, your job, I hope that it is all going nicely.’ He had lost his father and almost all the assets and then he says that it has been a bit difficult.

‘If I may help, please don’t hesitate …. I mean …’ I wish I never said that, maybe I did not wanted to hurt his ego, these remote people rely a lot on ego; but primarily I was doubtful if I really wanted to help him financially. The mean me!

He shrugged ‘Thanks.’

Did he read my intensions of not helping actually? Did he realize that I am being a selfish guy just offering help for the sake of saying it? He left me with all these questions unanswered.

Software Engineer Lifecycle ...... Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 04:44:00 +0000

There was this guy, a software engineering graduate, more than happy at the day of his graduation. No more threatning exams, quizzes, assignments and submissions of all kinds. Life would be great fun from now on, working with the top MNCs, he thought of himself as nothing less than a warrior who has survived a great battle. But again he gets down on the thoughts of being parted from his cherished group. The college friends, the mutual backbiting, conspiring and not leaving a wisker of a chance to humiliate others and get humiliated as well. And of course that girl who made him sit in the library for hours just to gaze at her occasionaly and feeling relieved if during the entire session she replies the stares back with a grin, not knowing that it was a chase on the trademill which will not lead anywhere. And then there is another girl playing badminton in the park making him sit there for hours just to get a chance to play mutually and let her return his shot if not the smile.

Now he is in here with a big MNC pretending to be more mature taking monolithic oaths and pledges to work hard and not get distracted by anything. But then there is this induction session where he is called with a small group of other new joiners where in the immortal conspiracy makes him get paired up with a beautiful girl again and no matter how hard he tries but gets distrated by her acts (no I will not get into the details, its just not good). Then the stream asssignments, where in he fights to get into his favourite domain arguing with the HR logistics department but again a lot of girls await slowly dismantling his efforts and arguments by those costly smiles for which he has wasted a million hours already in the library and the park and the malls and the fests and everywhere. And as expected made him get into the domain and technology which suits the HR deptt and not him.

Then he pledges that now it is enough and no more distractions, I will work hard and avail the onsite opportunity in the next rotation slot. Excited by the thoughts of abroad travel, suddenly he realizes that there is this another girl who has joined the project with him and is wooing the tangible people and intangible assets to move the opinions towards her side and as usual he is at loss again. .................

Did I really lost the battle !

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 16:29:00 +0000

I was just thinking somehow as usual,

Did I really lost the battle, as I feel?

Or is it the lonely babel that becons me,

And pushes the real - somevoice, back there

From where I cannot hear the plea.

Oh you are the lucky one,

You are the chosen one,

You have the best of the chances,

And it is you who can do it for you.

Oh the holy light I waited for,

Oh the divine plight I waited for,

They all are within sleeping long,

And here is the time beckon.

For every great man it was the loss,

The defeat which paved the way for success,

And since you failed,

Its the making of another genius out of you that prevails !!!

When in the sky …

noreply@blogger.com (Anshul) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 05:08:00 +0000

I was sitting in the aircraft enjoying my maiden flight ride and the diminished and lowly terrains. Next to me was an anxious guy reading a book ‘100 ways to crack a group discussion’. He was joined by another guy and eventually one could see a mock GD session going on next to me. I had to eventually intervene and request them to keep the volumes a bit to the lower side. I had my laptop out jotting down every single detail from the coziness of the back rest to the brilliance of the view outside; from the beauty of the décor in the flight to the crew onboard. Eating a ‘Rs.120’ butter toast I realized that someone from the back was checking out my screen. A supposedly young but old lady (with the amount of plastic put on, one can hardly predict the age now a days) was staring at the screen from the small slit. I turned the lid down and returned a sarcastic stare back; she was embarrassed and smiled back. She asked: ‘So you write … hm? ’ what a funny question?

I thought: ‘No I am a read only device।’ The insane question deserved a reply like this but never mind, I just nodded.

She asked: ‘Do you enjoy writing?’

I thought: ‘No my doctor has prescribed it twice a day, and an additional dose when in an aircraft।’ I mean, how can one ask these joke material questionnaires? I just kept quite, nodded and showed my disinterest.

She asked: ‘Guess what I am a novelist … he he … I really liked your way of writing and specially the simplicity of the language।’

I thought: ‘What !! She liked the description of the vital stats of the crew or the sarcastic veg- sandwich’

I replied: ‘Well thank you’, with a smile।

She asked: ‘So you are going for a vacation or what?’

I thought: ‘A vacation, that too alone and that too in Pune. God, she had to be a writer to ask that’

I replied: ‘No, I am on my way for the GI PI process for .....’
……………..