life sucks

2008-02-10T20:32:00.000-08:00

This blog had been gathering dust for a very very long time now. And I had really given up on it, never finding the right occasion or the setting to start writing again. Not even life-changing events could move me into writing. What did finally, was an invigorating meeting with my childhood friends.
I spent some quality time with two of my most dear childhood friends, A & S. We had lunch together, then watched a delightful dark Brit comedy called 'Death at a funeral'. After the movie we went to Costa Coffee, and recalled our childhood days over some blue berry mousse and chocolate twist.
It was the most satisfying, and enjoyable day-outs that I've had in a very long while.

The Shop Around The Corner

2007-04-08T22:52:00.000-07:00

Its 11.19 am on a Monday morning.
I take a look around to find all my colleagues deeply engrossed in their work. Sure, after a long weekend, its a reluctant trudge back to work, but they are getting there.

Here I am, trying desperately to whip up a post, and in the process, remove a writer's block that set in last year, while Bryan Adams is screaming 18 till I die in my ears.
I too, would have been tapping away at my keyboard, had it not been for a extremely steadfast ennui. Last Thursday, work was slow in anticipation of a long weekend. Today, my work-related alacrity does not want to come out of the duvet. Earning a living can be quite a pain. Its just the thought of the money that keeps me going.

You've Got Mail -- the movie, must also take some blame for inflicting such lethargy on me. Everytime I watch it, I long to be in New York. Not the new-age Manhattan-maniac New York mind you. What I want to experience is the laid-back quality of life that the fim portrays. I know its blaspemous to associate any languidness with the Big Apple, but I'm very much taken by Kathleen's way of life. So please don't jump at my throat, I have no inclination to fight back.
Coming back to Kathleen, I love the way she walks to work everyday, with a Starbucks coffee cup in her hand. Not a worry about being late for work, neither for running into mood-altering heavy traffic jams.
My favourite scene is the one where she reaches her shop, only to exclaim loudly to her colleague, ''What a lovely day! Isn't it a lovely day?!'', followed by ''Don't you just love New York in fall?''
Her quaint little bookshop is almost to-die-for. The exposed brick walls, the light-coloured tables and chairs, and last but not the least, the books make the entire setting pretty and compelling. There's another scene in the movie where Kathleen is trying to untangle Christmas lights. I've never seen prettier lights.

There is no discerning point in this blog. I love this movie, and as is obvious, am very much taken by Kathleen and her shop, I only wanted to put my feelings in black-and-white.

Travel travails

2006-08-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

The stupid autowallahs have become the bane of my existence. Not a single day goes by when I don't get into an argument with them - over money, the route, it's always either of the two irritating matters that make me hate these idiots more than anything else.
So car it is for me. Coz the other option - chartered buses - is almost as annoying. I'd always associated chartered buses with civilised office-going janta, aunty-uncles who were well-versed with etiquettes of travelling together. I should have known better, coz cheaper it might be, it is only second to blueline/DTC buses as far as the crowds go.
I once had an idiot sit next to me...the bugger boarded the bus while it was still waiting to move out of the compound, there were plenty of seats but where did the asshole have to come and sit, right next to me. Put off as I was by that, I forgot about it the next instant. In the course of the journey, this 40–50-something jerk kept pushing against my arm. Needless to say that I was seething with anger. After repeated scowling meant solely for him and even telling him in so many words to sit properly, did he get the message.
And you know what, women travellers shouldn't get any benefit of doubt either. They are not like the OMG-I'm-the-oppressed-babe-in-the-woods kind of traveller. They just want complete and absolute control of the buses they're travelling in. They're the queens of harassment.
They keep their bags on the seats, refuse to remove it to make space for another harried co-passenger. They'll perch themselves in a way, you'd thank your starts you didn't get a seat next to them. And by far the most irritating habit, they'll keep fidgeting. I mean, really, these women just can't sit straight for the life in them!
I'll just drive down....

Life's like THAT!

2006-08-07T04:31:00.000-07:00

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
- William Henry Davies
(1871-1940)

For once, I'm happy to say that I'm getting time for all of that and more. The mad rush that life's been the past two years, it seems as if now I'm sailing..watching all the scenery glide by me. And it's a terrific feeling!
I once watched a movie called Wimbledon, where the protagonist says ''all my life, I thought my life would come to an end if I stopped playing. But I was wrong, since it only began when I stoppped'' . I'm afraid I thought pretty much the same. I always thought journalism was my life, that if I stopped pursuing the profession, I would be a nobody. My job was, to a great extent, my identity. Then one fine day, I quit.
I had had enough. I didn't even think twice. Didn't spare a thought to my 'career'. All I craved for was some semblence of sanity in my life. I was tired to being at work mentally, even when I was out of it. Of my heart stopping momentarily when ever I saw 'Office' flashing on my phone.
And most of all, I was sickened by this terrible sense of foreboding that clung to me as soon as I pushed open the doors of my office building.

If there was ever a piece of advice that I passed on to the younger generations, it would be to never give unnecessary credence to your work. Work is a part of life, not your life.

My present workplace is a warm, friendly place. There lot of bonhomie among employees, a concept I never saw at my previous workplace. So much so, that the first day, I was bewildered.

And the work moves at a relaxed pace. There are deadlines alright, but you don't have to kill yourself to meet then. Which however, doesn't mean that they are relaxable, only that you're given the right amount of time and environment to meet them.

For those who've known me. I think it should suffice to say that I look forward to going to work each morning.

Wedding Blues!

2006-06-30T08:03:00.000-07:00

I've been getting this rather disturbing feeling off late. I often feel that I don't want to get married. Sometimes, I ask myself what the heck have I landed myself into, and wouldn't I be better off without it? Is it normal? Are they bridal jitters or something? I don't know. But I often feel this way, ever since I got engaged that it. And I'd be damned if I say it aloud!
The very idea of going and staying at someone else's house make me nervous. I've never quite appreciated the concept, to be very honest. Several times my friends would try and organise this pyjama party of sorts, where they said we'd eat, chat, bitch and bitch some more. I'm always game for such enriching activity, only I don't want to spend the night at someone's place and do it. So, I'd carefully sidestep the issue, without (bless my soul!) offending any of my friends. My profession only helped matters, since there was always something or the other happening.
So, like I was saying, I would be utterly, completely, totally uncomfortable at someone else's house. And to think that I'd be living at their place for good. I shudder at the mere thought!
Also, I'm somewhat of an introvert, so that basically translates into me sitting in a corner and well, just sitting and watching others go about their activities. I'd be hesitant to move from one room to another, to stand in front of my in-laws or other relatives, God help me if I'm needed to open my mouth to say something. I'd even think 100 times before using their loo!
Plus, I've never stayed away from my parents. And I don't trust others easily. So, you see, all the ingredients for making my stay at my husband's place uncomfortale beyond belief.
My friends would argue that since my fiance is in the armed forces, I'd be moving around with him, and wouldn't have to stay with my in-laws.
But, I want to point out to them that it's only another cause for concern for me. I know that I'll be terribly homesick, would cry at the smallest of things and would want to rush back home. my home, that it.
It makes me teary-eyed right now, as I write this post to think of what the future has in store for me. And you can see how ill-prepared I am.
So it makes me wonder why was I so thrilled when I got engaged. May be it was because it sort of made our relationship official. or maybe, maybe I was just excited at the idea of being a married woman, married to someone I love. Whatever it was, I don't seem to want it much now. Oh! how I wish I could turn time back **sigh**

You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours

2006-05-17T06:39:00.000-07:00

It's that time of the year again. How many times me and another colleague would have rated this one as the most boring, banal intros for a news story. It's the most befitting one in the current situation though. After all, it's time for appraisals. Wow, that was achieved with some flourish, I wish I could display the same amount of alacrity in filling up the appraisal forms. A kind-of-cute HR guy (I wonder if he was married...*sigh*) took us through a long and tedious process of what was their idea of fair judgment. I call it been there, done that...to no avail. No, the process hasn't filled me with any sort of dread, (I'm not a workshirker), but with a deep sense of cynicism. What's the bloody point?
To be absolutely fair, I and only I know the kind of commitment I have for my work. And the honesty with which I do it. Despite everything. My superior (to borrow a word from the cute HR guy's lexicon), really doesn't have an inkling of what I do and how I do it.
So, now the question is, how would he appraise me? Obviously, he'd find me disappointingly short of his expectations (if any). Yeah, this does sound like my word against his. So what's the solution? And the point for this post?
See, the solution is nothing. That I would get a less-than-flattering increment, that is if I get any, is for sure.
The point of this post, which I have been very inarticulate in making, is that I'm angry and disappointed at this system. A process where word of people telling absolute lies about their work and themselves, is taken as the gospel truth. Where people like me will probably die without a whimper.
But what I hate the most about this state-of-affairs is my inability to do anything about it.
And if you are wondering about the title of the post, it's what some people who will get an increment, do here.

Bored Beyond Belief

2006-04-26T07:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I totally lose it. I mean really really lose it. My present state of mind is of utter boredom. I'm at work, have a copy to sub but what is it that I'm doing - writing blogs instead. Also, listening to irritating neighbours play songs at more-than-allowed audio levels. Actually, I'm also listening to songs but the volume is so low, I can barely make out the lyrics.
My interest in my work right now is zilch. I just wish this day would get over soon, so that I can go home and eat. And sleep. And watch TV. There's possibility of a mall trip tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that. Why? Obviously because shopping for no rhyme or reason cheers me up immensely. Also because apart from the clothes and other knick-knacks that that I'll end up buying, I've haso made up my mind to buy a couple of books. So what if I can get them whole lot cheaper from any of those road-side book vendors in CP? I'm so bored I actually don't care. Have money, will spend.
Anyways, the last time I was at the mall bookshop - Crosswords, I'd seen a copy of Candance Bushnell's Sex & the City. And Shantaram, not Bushnell's but the book otherwise.
Just the kind of stuff that I want to read right now. Funny, frivolous material. In fact, I'm in movie mood too but that'll just have to wait.
And there are no updates on any of the blogs that I regularly frequent. Quite disappointing, if you ask me.

Did I tell you I'd miss you?

2006-04-22T07:44:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how friendships are formed, and how they are forgotten too! One of my dearest friend left the organisation to join somewhere else. So now, there's one reason less for me to want to come to work. I never like coming here, unless of course it's a saturday and I know that the people I want to avoid won't be there. There'd still be copious amount of work to do, but without the bottlenecks, it'd be a smooth ride.
But each day, as I would travel to work, I would ask myself: Is there anything to look forward to in office? (I'm sure there are people who would think it's bad work ethics, but believe you me, you don't know the first thing about this place. Anyways, that, is a totally different story.)
So I would think of V and smile to myself and say: Thank God!, V's going to be around.
My friend, philosopher, guide - she was the only person who saw me through this place day in and day out.
Now, however, she won't be there. And I would miss her terribly. Think I may or may not have told her so in person, but here goes, on the record.
And it's funny how we met. We obviously had no inkling that bonding over one assignment would lead to several years of friendship. V and I had been sent by our respective employers (I was interning at that time), some five years ago, for the inauguration of an art-cum-cultural hub gallery of sorts. Needless to say, the lah-di-dah of the society had descended upon the place, air-kissing and ooh-aahing.
We were totally out of this circuit. We got talking and realised that both of us hated the assignment (though she now tells me that she's savour every minute of such a pseudo event).
We kept in touch. Then when I went to work for a news channel, she was working for a newspaper in the same building. Both of us would meet up, and try and have lunch or dinner together.
But it was here, at this newspaper, that we came really close. For the past one year, I've shared all my joys and sorrow with her. And she's always been there, lending me a patient ear and a sound, pragmatic advice. I identified more with her than I did with some other people I'e known here for sometime. I hope and pray and V and I stay this way always (touchwood!)
That's because I've had my share of bad friendships. My 'best friend' of 14 years, I got to know, was saying some really horrid things about me to AS. I may have forgiven her for it, but I surely haven't forgotten. Which is why V is and hopefully, will remain special to me.

Going with the flu(ow)

2006-02-18T05:52:00.000-08:00

Though this doesn't even begin to express what I feel about the latest crisis to hit the country, you can attribute the lack of elequence to a highly agitated state of mind, what with us carnivorous souls not getting our daily quota of chicken. The godforsaken flu has killed the sheer joy of eating out. Only a few days back, I was planning to head for my favourite (and the only one I know) Greek joint. Guess I'll just have to say adois or however is it that they bid godbye to in Greek, to chicken :(
And since I wouldn't even risk mutton now, and don't appreciate fish and don't have lamb or pork, And will just have to make do with a) paneer b) dal makhani c) paneer d) rajma d) chole e)paneer.
Bhagwaan!!!
Come to think of it, I never knew I would have such strong emotions when it came to chicken. Adversity seems to have brought out a different person in me, indeed. In a brief moment of induced nostalgia, I'm reminded of this post by Jay. And though I refrained from commenting on it then, this post will tell you how I feel.
Can't write more. Think am suffering from writer's block as a result of outbreak of avian flu or similar.

Devil Vs Deep Sea

2006-01-25T10:29:00.000-08:00

I'm in a very confused.
There were a couple of very important decisions/choices that I had to make for my life. I was happy for a while.
Now, though, I'm not so sure. I don't know if they were the right choices to make. And what makes it even worse is the fact that confused I might be, but I sure as hell can't undo those decisions. Not only will they remain with me for the rest of my life, but even if I tried to go back on them, I might not survive to write any post.

Obviously, It scares the life out of me.

i am not PS!!!!!!

2006-01-19T19:40:00.000-08:00

hi all....before any of u start reading this blog let me tell u one thing, to all ur surprise(or perhaps dismay) that i am not PS....and dont worry I am no hacker who has broken into this blog or some prankster playing some sort of cyber mischief..but actually a guest writer!!i dont care if it sounds stupid but its the fact and is undisputed....i am actually invited by PS to share her space..and now for all those people who are bout to log off..have a great day ahead,and for those who still have the patience to go through this ...i really appreciate ur gesture.now that PS has asked me to wite something,let me tell u that am very bad at this and couldnt even muster 200 words for the essay for 12th std board exam...now dont start guessing my grades....coming back to the blog,i think i had rather write bout the originator of this blog than myself...yes PS...and i have known her for almost more than a decade..perhaps sixth std...when i was her class partner...and i clearly remember a very petite girl chewing on her pen,when i finally asked her...can i borrow one pen..i have forgotten mine at home..which she very reluctantly offered. and from then on our friendship started...and we became one hell of a friends by mid semester...she was one chaterbox..always smilling...and laughing...except for mathematics period...where she used to switch off completely.very helpfull i knew her economics assignment were always there for me to copy everytime,though she used to get them back in not always presentable state(once i had spilled daal on it while trying to have dinner and copy simultaniously....and once i had scribbled my friends phone no. on it as i was unable to find something more apt in hurry)really i owe my passing eco paper more to her than my eco teacher.Really she is one wonderful girl,always there.. when u need her,smiling,going all her way out to help u...and after all these years when i have almost lost all touch with my school frnds ...i still meet her,go with her for movies and even our school reunion..and so shy she is...that still she hesitates in walking close to me..so that she doesnt spark off some scandal...and now that i have got this opportunity i would like to thank her forevery thing...for her pens that i used to borrow and loose..for her eco assignments...for being with me always and being such a wonrdeful friend....and for all ur info..we r getting engaged this june...and plan to marry in another year time.now for the big question..who am I...i am sure half of u would have guessed by now nd for the remaining half...u had bettar ask PS...

Am back!

2005-12-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

Okay, firstly, my apologies to thalassa for not responding to her tag. All this while, I kept hoping secretly that someone would tag me too, and when someone finally did, I couldn't reply to it for weeks. Anways, here goes:

Seven things I plan to do:

1. Go to Mumbai and Pune

2. Join a gym

3. Read as many books as possible

4. Start saving

5. Learn to bake amazing cakes

6. Appreciate booze a lot more than I do right now...

7. Keep a check on my foot-in-mouth disease

Seven things I can't do:

1. Do Maths

2. Control my temper

3. Become this oh-so-chic, ubercool, mother-of-all-sophistication

4. Eat eggs

5. Live without gossip ;)

6. Read sci-fi books

7. Get up early in the morning

Seven things I say most often:

1. It's not funny

2. Hey Bhagwan!

3. Oh fuck!

4. Listen,

5. Hello??

6. Mujhe neend aa rahi hai

7. I swear on God!

Picking up the pieces

2005-11-03T08:21:00.000-08:00

They seem never-ending, stories about the Delhi serial blast victims. They are everywhere, in all newspapers. And while they can bog one's senses at a superficial level, if you read them and may be re-read them, as I've been doing, you invariably start grieving for them. Even then, I realised that while these stories speak of intense sorrow, they are all underlined with unimaginable courage. Courage the unaffected can't even begin to imagine. I've read stories about a 14-yr-old having lost his parents, a teenager left with just an 8-yr-old sister in the world, mothers and sisters not being informed of their sons' and brothers' death.
I read this story where a man went to a morgue to identify his brother's body four days after the blasts occurred. Before that, he couldn't muster enough courage to venture inside.
Instead of sympathising with them, if we could learn how to keep the faith as they are doing right now, we would be so much better human beings. It's one thing to say life moves on, that it never stops for anyone, and quite another thing to follow it.

And ya...there was another story about how a 22-year-old guy still wants to marry his 21-year-old fiancee, even after she was badly burnt and severely injured in the blast. They tie the knot on November 12.

Hello?? New Delhi Railway Station?

2005-10-12T04:47:00.000-07:00

Yeah, stuff like this forms an intergral part of working for a newspaper....answering the telephone and tackling numerous such inane queries. Just recently, I took a call from a gentleman who wanted to donate money for the Pakistani earthquake victims, this is how it went:

Man: Hello? Madam, haan, hello?? Yeh Pakistani earthquake victims ke liye paise kaise donate kar sakte hain?

Me: (quite irritated, coz his call was terribly ill-timed as we were fast nearing the deadline) Sir, pehle Jammu & Kashmir ke liye to paise de do...

Man: (absolutely flying past my smart alec reply) Plz mujhe bataiye ki Pakistani earthquake victims ki madad kaise kar sakte hain

Me: (now pissed beyond belief) Sir, I dont' know

Man: (obviously not the one to give up) You are such a huge newspaper and you don't know?!

Me: Yes, I don't know and don't care. First check if they have a fund created for the purpose coz for all you know, they might not even need your money!

And exulting over my victory, I slammed the phone down (I vaguely remember having read somewhere that you should quit while you're ahead...)
I think for all our hard work that reflects in our bright and beautiful edition every morning, people seriously mistake us for May I Help You? set. No, why else would they call with such utterly moronic questions???
Actually, I think our PR people screwed big time somewhere. No, really. During rakhi time this year, a lady called up from Montreal. Her humble request was that we tell her if her rakhi had reached her bhaiyya. What the....???????
Sadly, we'd never know if her bhaiyya received her rakhi or not.
The thing is that they don't always irritate us. They give us-poor overworked underpaid journalists-a lot of, and I really mean a lot of reasons to laugh!
On another thing that I've realised in these phone calls is that Indian janta, for all its innocence, is amazingly media-savvy.
Just a few weeks back, this man called up. He wanted us to do a story on his son, who had successfully recovered from dengue. Foolish me, I didn't see the point and told him so, which must have put him off very badly coz he yelled: ''Maine ded lakh rupe kharche apne bete par, isko Apollo le kar gaya tha. Woh sab kis liye?'' Beats me, boss! Maybe for a story. In any case, I'm not obliging you...
But what took the cake was this:

Caller: Hello? Madam, ek bahut important baat batani hai.

Me: (combat ready with a pen and paper) Haan ji, bataiye?

Caller: Madam, mere paas ek anonymous e-mail aaya hai, usme likha hai ki Osama Bin Laden ko America mein World Trade Centre bomb karne ka idea kaise aaya. Mail mere hotmail account par hai.

While I was still racking my brains over my possible reply, he added: Aur mere paas pictures bhi hai. Plz ma'am, jaldi kucch kijiye....

I did. I hung up on him.

...

2005-10-04T07:03:00.000-07:00

Work hard, don't worry about the fruits, they'll follow.

Is that true? Does that really happen? Or everything boils down to marketing gimmicks, of which I've never been a student?

An ode to the bird-brained idiots

2005-10-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

If you win this competition, what would you do with the prize money?

I would give the money to the poverty line, because orphanages are important because it is very important that children have a good bringing up.

Not me, some doofus who was one of the contestants in the recently-held Gladrags Model something, I'm sorry, I don't even remember the name of the show. Please, please tell me, such idiots exist only on television. Maane, what the hell was he even thinking? The point that I want to make is that most of these ambitious wannabes are born with -ve IQ. The only reason they don't believe in brain power is coz it's not something they can flex like their muscules. And to top that, when these idiots start talking moral, I feel like giving each of them one tight slap!
I mean, would they even know how to spell moral? I don't think so...
I know of an equal measure of girls who are all just like that...can't think beyond their lipsticks and mascaras. For them, the president of the country is still Venkatraman and pneumonia is spelled with a 'n'.
I really have no patience with such bird-brains. However, the irony of the situation is that since they and their ilk are the once who make news, everytime there is anything worth reporting, one has to run to them for a quote. Like this huge national daily had the views of Priyanka Chopra, Kareena Kapoor on this year's national budget. I mean, for God's sake, would they even know what is a financial year? I could die of disgust :(

Listen, whatever happened to the intelligensia in this country???

I want to live in a teapot...

2005-09-28T07:09:00.000-07:00

For long I've wanted existence of the kind they show in shows like Noddy. Only without him coz I don't think I like him too much. My favourite character was Big Ears. So, back to Noddyland, I adore the small cars, cute little homes with lovely small gardens outside. God knows how badly I've longed for a dollhouse.

So today, when I was watching disney channel (yes, I watch Desperate Housewives, Sex & the City and Disney channel, though not in the same order), I came across this very cute programme called, 'Rolie Polie Olie'. Before you start thinking I'm demented or have had stunted growth of some sort, I want to say that it's not the case.

So this animation programme, this is a robot family who live on some different planet in the galaxy. There are four members, and they live in this teapot, replete with the snout and all. The house has eyes, a nose and a mouth too! it's called housey! In fact, that's how everything in the house is named...the refrigerator is called chilly, the toaster is called toasty....which led me to wonder what would an oven be called in their house..oveny?! Bakey perhaps...
Anyhow, the best part was that this family would get up every morning and they would go into the kitchen and just order around. They'd ask chilly for fruit juice, toasty for toasts etc .... Everyday, the house would clean itself while the members are out, would prepare food for them and at night, the weary house would go off to sleep. That picture of the snout sighing and the pot finally closing its eyelids, reminds me of my nursery colourbooks. They used to have these big images and bright yellows, blues randomly applied everywhere...
However, I'm not sure what, but something about that existence struck me and compelled me to write about it. So eversince that episode,I've been happily dreaming of living in a teapot :)
Wonder how would AS react, though ;)

Whaat?? No maid!! Tell us

2005-09-27T20:21:00.000-07:00

Is this the future of Indian journalism? No, I’m serious. Have we so run out of consequential topics to discuss and dissect that we’ll now write about maidservants and other domestic chore helpers?

Yesterday, Ottie asked me to do a story on dhobis in Vasant Kunj who’ve apparently gone on a strike. I did a double take. I’d always credited Ottie with superior news sense...sigh...not any more.

And these good-for-nothing-uber-modern Vasant Kunj residents? Whatever is wrong with them? Matlab, what can I possibly write in the story? Something like this perhaps:
“While the dhobis in Vasant Kunj remain unyielding in their demand for recognition as a revenue-generating industry, for the residents of the area, it’s been a tough week. Said Vineeta Kalra, a resident: “My children have been receiving punishments in school for the last two days. Teachers reprimand them for turning up in unironed clothes. I don’t know what to do. I’m very anxious. We’ll take up this issue with the resident welfare association, and also with the area MLA if need be.”

And listen, it’s bad enough they keep asking me to do onion price story…With this I’ve hit new low :(
(Kindly note that otherwise I’m a well-to-do journalist with plenty of good stories to do. This so doesn’t warrant my attention!)

I hope they don’t give me a byline for the story...Or else, I’ll delete this blog...

Does this happen to you too?

2005-09-27T08:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I feel out of sync with almost everybody I know. Sometimes the feeling that I'm being cheated or betrayed becomes very strong. Not that I'm suspicious. But, I just get the feeling of being used by all. All of my friends, everybody I know. Everybody who's close to me. So when they call or want me to call, I just somehow know it must be because they either have some work or just want to kill time talking to me, since its a tad bit exciting than sitting idle. I feel very let down.
Probably I shouldn't be writing this because I like to keep such things to myself. But kabhi kabhi it gets too much. I start hating myself for being a party to this charade.

I wonder how people make 'good' friends. I certainly don't have any. In fact, I have no one. You know I've come to realise that the worst thing you can wish upon someone is that they be lonely. It kills you. i hate to have a blog with nothing remotely exciting to say. No sense of humour, basically zilch. Man, I feel like shit :(

Men will be men?

2005-09-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

Your Inner Child Is Sad

You're a very sensitive soul.You haven't grown that thick skin that most adults have.Easily hurt, you tend to retreat to your comfort zone.You don't let many people in - unless you've trusted them for a long time.

Okay, never mind the quiz I took today. The other day, had a very funny conversation with RB and Essar. You know, how men will always be men. I gave them a slight insight into the kind of conversation they have, courstey AS. Essar doubled up in laughter. Come to think of it, we girls might scowl in disgust at the 'dressing-room' talk, but the truth is that they are funny to an extent. Till the time it doesn't get offensive. Only, we choose to not let them know. There have been times when AS has told me in the best language possible, the kind of 'talks' they have when the night is young and the booze is flowing freely. Don't know about others, but I find it hilarious and obviously laugh at it when he tells me, only I never let him know.

This one time, I was waiting for AS to call, which he didn't. Me, being on the somewhat anxious side of life, got hyper as to where he was. My friend VM, got so bugged of me worrying that she took the phone from me and called up his number. The call didn't get through. VM wasn't willing to give up so soon, so she went through my phone, found an SMS sent by AS from his friend's cell and called the gentleman up. The call was answered and V, with all the inncocence she could muster, asked if she could speak to AS. His friend naturally told her it was the wrong number, but he'll be sure to pass on the message. V apologised for the inconvenience caused and hung up. Mission accomplished.

Only, we hadn't quite expected what followed suit. V got a call from the same number she had called. The gentleman was now calling us. This is what happened.

Friend: Is this V?

V: Yes

Friend: Did you just call me again?

V (quite taken aback, and this time for real): No

Friend: Well, okay. My name is so-n-so.

V: Okay.

It was while we were dissecting the conversation that we realised what the gentleman was trying to do. We were in splits, shaking our heads and saying, ''men never give up, do they?'' Amazingly, when I told AS, he too laughed and justified his friend's ''move''. That's right, men never give up ;)

Freeloaders of the world unite!

2005-08-28T07:46:00.000-07:00

I mean, really! I've seen people go into throes of sheer ecstacy at the mere thought of free food. They behave worse than Somalian dogs.... On the hindsight, I'm not sure if they were funny or downright petty.
My friend V, treated the department to a blackforest cake, for her first byline. I found the entire scene so sickening. I mean, well-fed people, on the other side of poverty line, went absolutely bananas over a cake!!!!
Would you believe, this colleague of mine, kept stealing glances at it, then when she couldn't stand it any longer, came and begged, really, literally begged for a second helping! And I'm not exaggerating. Too bad she couldn't be obliged coz there were others who had to be served a piece too. Then this colleague, one who volunteered to help V distribute the entire thing, helped herself to a fatso of a piece. It was bloody huge! She just carved the piece out for herself, with impunity, only because my friend is way too tolerant with these pests.

However, what took the cake...and literally, was this swarm of dimwits, who have friends in our department. Apparently, when the cake arrived, alarms were set off to warn their entire brigade on the floor, who stormed our little area and helped themselves too. To think, they didn't even know my friend. They had no idea why the cake was there, just till it was there for the eating!!!!
Food man, food. It brings out the beast in people.
There was yet another gastronomic revelation for me this week. For all non-journalistic readers out there, if you ever want to invite media attention to anything, no matter how banal, just advertise FOC brand (that's free-of-cost) food for hacks. They'll all come charging in, you won't even have to issue the customary press release.
I went to this press conference earlier this week. I was a little late. By the time I entered, I saw journalists occupying every inch of the space available, save a sofa or too. All busy noting down details being given out. Just then entered smartly dressed waiters, gloved and all, serving juices. They were followed by yet another set of smartly-dressed waiters, this time with yummy-looking confectionery, followed by a serving of oven-hot patties.
Soon, the notepads were discreetly replaced with plates laden with food. There ensued some problem vis-a-vis sitting space too, coz the juice glasses too had to be accomodated. The scene looked more from a party than a press conference.
A few of them, didn't want to let go any part of the treat. They juggled their juice glasses with cups of tea or coffee.
Again, I was stumped. Par kya karein, paapi pet ka sawaal hai.....

Life...or something like that

2005-08-22T06:45:00.000-07:00

Checking mails, reading random blogs, opening seemingly interesting sites only to find nothing even remotely worth reading. The interesting sites have all been read and re-read, then getting on with work, subbing copies after copies, lamenting the same old facts everyday -- new intake not really committed to journalism, wrong decision-making at the top level, weighing chances of being shifted to the desired department. Its the same schedule everyday. Making pages at the end of the day, going home and sleeping. Not much of a routine, is it? I mean, its certainly not enviable.
I wonder what would hold my interest then? Doing a good story?
Taking some well-deserved time off?

From where I see, almost everyone has an exciting life. They are having fun. This is not to say that I don't love what I do, but I'm tired of it. Having done it for two straight years. For a little over two years, I was fretting over one thing or the other. Whether it was getting admission in the post-graduate institution of my choice, or getting a job or getting a nice job profile. All of that, thankfully, has been solved. There's a void now. I don't lose sleep over petty details of life anymore.

I dread the future and absolutely detest the present, leading to many a bouts of depression -- sometimes so intense that when I recover I'm ashamed of myself.

What is it that I'm yearning for so desperately? Is it deliverance in some form. If yes, then from what? My life isn't living hell. I want change. Although, I'm not quite sure of what. I think I want a different life. Yes, I think that's what is it. I want a different life. I want to be able to smile and laugh, without being scared anymore.

Sulky Days

2005-08-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

Forget the cute sweet picture posted a few blogs below, this is ottie's new avataar. Ottie was at his sulky best today, what with shouting and screaming left, right and centre. Obviously, the mood in the department was at its timid best, with none of us wanting to rub the great Ottie the wrong way. Don't know why he acted the way he did today though...

Friend NS said: ''May be he's PMSing''
Think not, i'm putting my money on menopause ;)

My Independence Day

2005-08-14T04:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Independence Day!
Obviously, a majority of you would be celebrating Swatantrata Diwas at home, lazing around, spending time with your family, watching patriotic movies or doing nothing at all. We of course, have to come to work (you do get the newspaper on August 16, you see!)
I want to cry out aloud in sheer frustration. I mean, give me a break man! Its a freakin' national holiday for crying out aloud. What the hell do you need a newspaper for the next day??? As if you're all ears for Mr PM's speech. Oh, come on...I know the truth.
You'll go (bag baggage and all) visiting your chacha, chachi, mama, mami and basically every forgotten relation you can think of. Why deny me the chance?
And I'm not asking for much, okay! I too, like a bonafide post-independence citizen of the country, want a decent public (not to mention, paid) one-day-holiday, that's all. I want to close me eyes, without my mind wandering to what story I have to work on next, since the sarkar's too on a legal chutti :)
I want to close my eyes, lie on my bed, fall into deep slumber with the gentle hum of the AC working as a lullaby. That's all. That's what I call life :)

Instead, I'll have to come to work. Work for the edition, which in most probability, most of you won't even bother reading since you would have already caught it on the television. I mean, do you really eagerly await the arrival of the newspaper the next day to see what promises the PM made this time around? No, right. That's exactly what my point is. Why should I slog over something you aren't even interested in? Its bad enough working on a sunday :(
Its absolutely criminal to work on national holidays. Parliament should come out with some sort of legislation against this one too. Prevention of Work on National Holidays (PoWNH) or something. Put the insensitive buggers who expect us to come to work on such historic days, behind the bars and never, I mean never, let them out. They are a threat to national integrity, security whatever...just pack all of them to Tihar. Hold a public hanging. Observe national holiday (of course) and let them die.
If not, I'm off to National Human Rights Commission, wish me luck

Give 'em the boot!

2005-08-11T11:15:00.000-07:00

Dressing down. Its a phrase I learnt from a friend whose dad was in the Army, and who used this word quite frequently to convey the fact that either he gave or received (in his younger days, of course!) a nice piece of mind. Apparently the fauj is quite fond of the phrase too. When I heard it for the first time, I liked it so much that I started using it with equal frequency.

However, I've never loved the phrase more than today. I mean, its incredible what one good dressing down can achieve for you. Thing is, I sent a package to AS, a good week before his birthday. Much to my chagrin though, it wasn't delivered to him even after 12-15 days after his birthday. So, thanks to much coaxing from AS, I went to register my complaint at the courier agency.

I don't quite know what I expected. But I wasn't surprised in the least when I entered their doorless (or if there was one, it was conspicuous by its absence), hot, and very busy office. It bore a striking resemblence to a sleeper class cloakroom at any of our railway stations.
The gentleman I strutted up to, surprised me with his service. After much customer-is-the-king crap, he gave me the royal dodge. ''Madam, CSD to aaj 6 baje band ho jayegi, hum kal aapko phone karke courier ka status batate hain'' Tolerant and understanding that I am, I gave them time and promised to return the next day to get an update.

Next Day.
Same story. Same greasy welcome (since I revealed that I was a journalist). The information, surprisingly didn't quite have the effect I was hoping for. He bullshitted me for a second day in the row. AS asked me to keep up the momentum. So I retuned back to office, called the guy up and blasted him, dropping the word 'consumer court' for added effect. He told me he'll try his best. That wasn't good enough for me.

The next morning I was brainstorming for a new day's strategy when I got a call from AS. Voila! the package had been delivered first thing in the morning! What's more, a representative of the courier company called him up twice to check if he had received the package alright and if all the contents were safe and sound. While I was exulting over victory, I realised that nothing in this country moves unless you give them a push or shove (depending on you case). So next time, things don't go your way, give'em the boot, I say

Tongue-tied...

2005-08-06T10:08:00.000-07:00

So I have to admit that I get tongue-tied in front of my boss and act amazingly clumsy. Please don't think that he is a tyrant, in fact, he's the best boss one could ever get. Inspirational, affable, reasonable and understanding. But everytime he's around me, or rather talking to me, the urge to make him think that I'm a good efficient employee takes over me and I drop things, spell words the wrong way and basically do everything wrong. Why? But as Essar says, he's an adorable ottie!!! :)

Is he or Is he not?

2005-08-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

oh I just love Harry Potter theories! I came to know only today that there is a website that offers theories that debunks Albus Dumbledore's death in the sixth book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. There goes, if any of who you who hadn't read the book and were planning to, I've already spoiled it for you-please don't be mad at me, I just had to write about it. Only a few days past completing the book, I'm already waiting for the seventh book to come out.
Here are a few very intruiging theories that I came across:

a. Dumbledore obviously didn't die

b. Snape's still very much a part of the Order of the Pheonix

c. Fawkes was actually healing Dumbledore when it was crying all the time. (Pheonix's tears have healing powers, remember!)

And the most explosive of all

d. Harry is one of the horcruxes!!!

For more infor, kindly log onto www.dumdledoreisnotdead.com

Time for me to go.....hope have given you enough food for thought for the night :)

If work is worship.... then I'm an atheist

2005-07-31T10:04:00.000-07:00

No, I didn't want to crib, but I'm so bloody furious right now that its not funny. I mean, what would I not do to kill this man...this man...who's supposed to be my superior..who does absolutely nothing to earn his fat paycheck, while I work myself to death. Okay, so I exaggerated just a little bit. But the fact is that he's an miserable incompetent nincompoop. But that's not what is interesting about him. Watching or observing his work (or the lack of it) is an incredible learning experience. See how he ducks work, dodges any kind of responsibility and totally shrugs off any kind of decision-making that puts him in the line of fire. All this while maintaining this excellent facade of being hopelessly committed to work, peering into the computer screen for all the eight hours of required duty as if his life depended on it.
After six months of employment here, he still didn't know his way around. Displaying amazing alacrity, he will delegate his share of co-ordination to minion mortals like me.
He possess other Godforsaken qualities as well, but they have to be experienced to be believed. Small things, for instance, he'll cry himself hoarse, calling out your name, without paying slightest regard to the fact that you're on phone taking down important details.
Similarily today, he must have called for me about a dozen-and-a-half times, when I was filing a story. He wanted to give me details about a page. Only there weren't any. Stories on that page were still being filed, I was at sea on being summoned over in this fashion. Why? But I knew better than to ask.
While my colleagues and I would be going feverish over the edition, he value-adds zilch to it. No headlines, no creative inputs and absolutely no brainwave. Nothing. If you are seeking any kind of work-related assistance from him, you are barking up the wrong tree, mate!
By the way, did I also mention that he hardly ever moves? I mean physically. After maybe coming into the office and leaving it, he gets up to go nowhere. Not even to take a leak .

PS: Okay, that's enough of name-calling or snitching to the world wide web about my workplace. Don't be surprised if I delete this post in a couple of days, I was only trying to let my steam off, not booking a place in hell which I'll be totally entitled to after God reads this.

Friends forever..and one foe too

2005-07-30T05:56:00.000-07:00

So I mended fences with a friend, with whom I had been pissed for sometime, for saying something I didn't quite appreciate. But never mind, its all water under the bridge now. The thing is, I'm not the kind of person who can be miffed with somebody for a long time, unless of course, the person has gone out of his or her way to put me off. There is one such person though, with whom I'm only too happy to be at war.

And IG sent me a very nice Garfield picture, the one line mantra of which is very pragmatic. There is some technical snag so I can't post the pic. I would have liked to.

Other than that, life's as usual. The weather right now is quite nice, not that I can actually see anything, for we work in modified versions of a pigeonhole, but while travelling down to work in the evening, I resisted the temptation of diverting from my destination and asking the autowallah to go to place like India Gate or something. India Gate is to Delhi as Marine Drive is to Mumbai, eventhough I rarely make an appearance in and around the glorious architecture and the lush green grass surrounding it.

What's more, exciting office gossip account has also dried up big time. Or that would have kept me going. Actually the sad part is that all the 'interesting' people (read people who generated maximum amount of gossip) have left the organisation. They were very promising. Their loss is difficult to compensate. I hope I don't get killed for writing this. So long...

Of sizzlers and sizzling stories

2005-07-28T04:12:00.000-07:00

Its amazing how things one takes for granted, can turn out to be minehouse of interesting information. Indian Railways, for instance. I met this official from the 'grand old establishment' today and he was full of trivia on the railways during the Raj. Anecdotes on how a British engineer named an engine after a leading European singer he liked to how we should thank a Mr Sen for the initiation of loos in the trains. The letter that Mr Sen sent to the Indian Railways, requesting for loos on board can actually be seen and read at the Rail Museum in Delhi. Very fascinating. And as he went on, I, the hack that I am by profession, was rubbing my hands in glee, thinking that each of this could make an excellent story :) Actually, the difference between print and television media is this: nothing can beat the thrill of seeing your name before a story on the newsprint.

Coming to Mumbai monsoon, a friend spend 23 hrs trying to get to a place that was actually only 2 hrs away. Its only when one of your kith and kin is involved, do you realise the magnitude of the crisis. She hadn't spoken to her family in Delhi in two days, God knows if she had had anything to eat or anything. But going by the newspaper reports, that too seems very far-fetched. Speaking of rains, Delhi could sure do with some.

Okay, a candid confession. I've been dreaming, fanticising actually, of sizzlers they serve at a nice little family-run restaurant in Khan Market. I mean, there are sizzlers and there are sizzlers, but Chonas' sizzler wins hands-down. Oh...now I'll spend the rest of my office time thinking about it. How is it ever going to help me work better?

Birthday wishes!

2005-07-27T10:33:00.000-07:00

I found this picture very cute, have a thing for penguins...So AS, here's wishing you a very Happy Birthday and a lifetime of joy and good luck and God Bless :) Have a wonderful birthday !!!

Love means never having to say sorry...

2005-07-26T04:15:00.000-07:00

But that's exactly what he did. He apologised for not being alert enough to see what or how I was feeling. And that hurt. A lot. I am okay with just about everything, but not when he says 'I'm sorry'. It also hurt because it wasn't his fault at all. Me, being the perennially panicky person, blowed a small thing out of proportion, and in a fit of rage, wrote a blog criticising him left, right and centre. I should have known better. He read it, it caused him pain to learn that I felt so neglected. I didn't. I've always been acting like this bratty attention-loving person, while he keeps giving it to me unconditionally. What I went through once I realised he had read it, I'd not forget. But I knew there was no way I could even see this blog again. Let alone write one. Because I felt terrible for writing what I did, for not having a check on my temper. So I deleted all my posts.

However, in the explanations and counter-explanations that ensued, I quoted this line from The Love Story to tell him that no matter what, he never should feel that he's neglecting me because that isn't true at all . Because even if he did, he never has to apologise. Because I'm sure there would be a good enought reason for him doing that. Also, I'm so hopelessly in love with him that it wouldn't matter. I might get as angry but I'd come back to him because I love him and there's othet place I'd rather be. Because without him, I've nowhere else to go.

And the only reason I'm writing again is because he extracted a promise out of me to do so. I'd do anything for him. And mushy as it may sound, I'm happy to have written this because what happened on Sunday left a profound effect on me.