Pictails

R is a one of a kind colleague. Referred to as C1 in an earlier post, R is known for his whacky humor, albeit unintentional mostly. What else can you say about a man who generates quotable quotes like “I have played tennis both before and after B-school and during B-school”.

Another salient feature of R’s is his willingness to go for tea, whether before tea or after tea or during tea. To put it in a nutshell, when other people are asked, ‘How are you?’ their reflex reply is ‘Fine’. When R is asked, ‘Tea?’ his reflex reply is ‘Chalo’. No matter what time of the day it is, whether he needs tea for the sake of tea or to give company to others, R is always game for the break. And, these tea table conversations are hilarious to say the least, you must very well have figured out owing to whom.

Though I cannot give you inside jokes and not-to-be-shared-in-public office anecdotes out here, there is something else I am dying to share. R is so serious about these tea breaks that every time there is one looming around the corner (which is extremely frequent – 11, 3, 4.30, 6.30), he invites us through e-mail with innovative pictures or text messages. Actually, one can expect a ‘pictail’ (pictorial mail) from R at the most unexpected of times, not just during tea breaks.

Here goes some unlimited fun, which is so totally not attributable to me except for having patiently collected the pictails over the past 5 months.

Starting with the tamer ones:

Lunch Invite

Tea Invite

Tea Invite to a colleague who is busy and says, “Let’s go after 10 minutes”

Sub: P stop acting busy!!!

And come for Tea….

After 10 minutes, when P says “Let’s go for tea”

Green Signal!!

And then, when we are all busy and are not able to make it to tea sharp at 4 a really angry mail

When a new employee joins office, the pictail is

Folks,

After a long drought almighty has blessed us with a new sheep. Let’s use this opportunity to fleece the sheep. In other words, treat time!

Regds,

R

Finally, when there is some secret gossip to be shared amongst the gang,

The Baasha fight to fame

As the readers of this blog are slightly aware from here, my Hindi is thoda khamzor. That was my tagline in Mumbai, when I spoke to anyone ranging from the doodh wallah to the taxi wallah to the apartment security guard.

“Bhaiyya mera hindi thoda khamzor hai”

That would sound weird to the normal reader. However, people who know me well know quite well the extent of my fluency in Hindi. Ok, forget them, any of you tell me how I possibly can converse with the apartment’s Marathi security guard this way:

“Bhaiyya, oopar paani nahi aa raha hai. Motor mein kya problem? Motor wallah nahin aaya repairing ke liye? 4 hours hua hai abhi tak koi nahi aaya? What the hell will I do without water?!”

Or, with the Bihari taxi wallah like this:

“Bhaiyya, yahan se seedha jaayiye, phir aage second right pe white car ke paas ek shop hai na, wahaan ek minute stop kar dijiye. Uske baad Bandra mein ek friend ko fast pick up karna hai.”

Half the time, I would forget that jaldi is what should replace fast. And, of course, there is always the eternal dhed, dhaai problem. I am still not sure which one is 1.5 and which one 2.5. It is quite some magic that I remember that aadha is 0.5.

Aisi haalath mein I could never have risked walking down the roads of Mumbai without a sticker on my forehead saying “Thoda khamzor Hindi, Beware!” Well, almost! I started warning everyone I met with the Thoda Khamzor tagline. The very predictable response I always got (accompanied by something between a smile and laugh) was “Aap Taaaamil hai kya?!”

A story on that will be quite a digression, let’s save it for another day.

The point of this post was to let all of you know that I have come miles from the thoda khamzor girl I used to be, so much so that I have started composing wonderful poems which might some day become famous songs in Bollywood movies.

As faithful readers of my blog, I thought you all should get a sneak preview of these masterpieces before they go public and I start earning millions.

Here goes my favorite:

Hamare Rashtra Basha ko Zindabad

Main nahi bulaiya tereko, Sinbad

Zindabad hai Zinabad

Uske bad

Sab kuch Barbaad!!!!

Manage, on reading this poem, was all praise. He said no one could ever have started the first line with Zindabad and ended the poem with Barbaad. He is still in awe of my immense exponential progress with the Hindi language.

The next one is something I thought up today, while I was struggling to finish some damned Excel work.

Khatarnaak hoon mein

Hindi mein bolne ki pehle

Khadak hoon mein

Hindi mein bolne mein

Joker hoon mein

Hindi mein bolne ki baad!

I need to own up to something here. I actually do not know the meaning of Khadak, just added it for the ‘rhyme value’. And, when I came to Joker, I was stuck with no Hindi equivalent for hours. And, having a bunch of pure blood Tams working around me did not help the cause. So, readers, please bear with it till Kavity is back with the next set of khatarnaak‘ly’ improvised poems!

Thab Thak Pyaar se Aap sab ki dost,

Kavity

(Edit: Thanks to 'Butt'ah for advising me to change 'ka' to 'ki')

P.S. Definitely dedicated to FinalsPrep_Marketing (Nice Try) (same guys linked above) for having encouraged me to talk all the nonsense Hindi in the world :D

Just another day..

I am at work, sitting in front of my laptop, having my n^th Google tab opening up on the Explorer. There are other windows visible on the Taskbar – an Excel, a PowerPoint, a couple of PDFs and a folder. I am rummaging through the folder for some ‘prior knowledge’, not as efficiently as Google which is busily processing the work delegated to it.

I have a STRICT 12 noon deadline for the morrow. I am lucky today. I usually have ASAP deadlines, which are actually deathlines. On such eventful days, at least 3 people stand behind me, peering in to my laptop with tensed looks and grief stricken faces (quite weird and funny), saying, “Boss has closed the laptop, he has put on his blazer, he has picked up the BlackBerry, he is coming towards us”, while I do a quick “sense check” before hurriedly clicking the magic word ‘Print’.

Today, I am bored. There is no one breathing down my neck, no one calling me over to their desks for ‘quick meetings’, no phone calls, no hundred thousand mails. I check ‘BookMyShow’ for tickets to plays and movies. I find everything to be most uninteresting, even Kareena’s bare back. On second thoughts, I guess it is perfectly alright for me to not be interested in her back.

I wonder whether I should Tinker again. There are a couple of ideas floating around in my mind. But, I need YouTube. Oh, damn! It is blocked here.

I check Google Reader once again for some shared items, may be an ‘It Made My day’ link, maybe a ‘Laugh It Out’ picture. I find none and feel let down by my Google Reader pals, who have been inactive for the past 3 hours. I refresh Gmail for the thousandth time. No luck there either. What the hell is everyone doing?

Maybe work?? I suddenly am enlightened (yet again). I open the n+1^th Google window. The presentation is waiting to be repopulated, restructured and generally jazzed up (screwed up). The graphs are hanging around aimlessly, the ‘dabba golas’ are at war over which of them should stay and which of them should die. I can hear the deck groaning in agony and pain.

I do not have an option.

It is a STRICT 12 noon deadline.

Hey.. Goodbye Nanba!

'Nanba' is Tam for Friend. The title of this post has been borrowed from the first line of a song from the Tamil version of the popular Maniratnam movie 'Yuva'. The song, incidentally, is about the girl's "special friend".

Sleepless I have been,

Romancing you every night

Music has become oppressive

Books have become painful

Internet does not enthuse me any more

My feeble, almost broken heart,

Thinks of you and you alone

Day in and day out

It has been a short

Albeit vigorous relationship

Between us

Though it is sad to concede

You must have got weary of me by now

How about trying someone else, Mr. Flu?

Why I love you as I love you..

I was having a long argument with P (who loves having long arguments over everything on Earth), about why everyone should love Mumbai. Ok, that is a tall claim. Not everyone can love Mumbai because, like he says, it is too crowded and too expensive!

P says that I love Mumbai only because I have good memories from there, because I have had the right set of people there. I vehemently disagree.

P says that we have a Marina for a Marine Drive, we have a substitute in Chennai for everything we have there! Again, I vehemently disagree.

And, I decide to list down why I actually love Mumbai, beyond just hanging out with friends, walking along Marine Drive and shopping till I drop down dead.

Here we go, all over again, about Mumbai Meri Jaan.

• The crowd thronging VT station and Elphinston bridge, focusing only on the train, not caring about what you are doing and where you are going ‘cos it is just too busy running on its feet.
• The city that never sleeps, literally! The sheer independence and security that Mumbai gives its dwellers at 2 in the morning – I have no more words!
• The infectious spirit. In my Manager’s words, “I land at Mumbai airport and something gets in to my blood. The adrenaline rush is faster, the mind asks for challenges. I just want to keep going, on and on, unmindful of the road blocks and the speed breakers.” He stole the words from my heart totally!
• I take a rickety cab from Lower Parel to Matunga, the meter shows 3.5. The cab wallah is old, he is wearing a pair of really old looking, dull spectacles. He flips out a card slowly from the dashboard and we check how much 3.5 is. It says Rs. 48.50. I give him a Rs. 100 note, apologetically stating, “Bhaiiya, mere paas change nahi hai”. He says, “Koi baath nahi Beti”, takes out his wallet gives me 5 ten rupee notes and a one rupee coin. I take it and turn around to leave when he says, “Ek minute beti” and fishes out a 50 paise coin.

I rest my case.

Right Ho!

A colleague of mine, C (mentioned elsewhere in this blog, for asking crazy questions and to be mentioned many more times in coming weeks for ‘adding value’ big time to our otherwise existential life in officeJ) is a major Bertie Wooster fan, to the extent of considering him a role model. In his own words, “What would you have prayed for as a school kid? Good marks at the max? I used to pray for a large inheritance so that I can just sit back and enjoy the well nourished life, very like Bertie Wooster. And of course, it would not hurt to have a Jeeves by my side. What more can one want out of life?”

He is right. He is thinking about the larger picture when he talks about the well nourished, laid back life. Somehow, that is what many of us are striving for, to run around and earn so that we can have a peaceful old age, the Jeeves factor being more of an add-on than hygiene, of course.

I digress, as usual.

I too am a big P. G. Wodehouse fan. However, when discussing Bertie Wooster with C, I realize that I am actually a major Jeeves fan though I am not sure of the ‘role model’ part. In all of P. G. Wodehouse’s works, while I have laughed my head off over the antics of Bertie Wooster, Gussie Fink Nottle and others of the clan, it is Jeeves who has always attracted me the most. Precise and in control of every situation, quoting from things unheard of by the general public, thinking miles in advance and planning and manipulating situations, knowingly and unknowingly making himself indispensable, networked enough to know the darkest secrets and latest gossips – in one word, or rather two, Jeeves rocks! Thinking back, inadvertently, I have strived to be a Jeeves in real life, trying to be in control of situations, thinking and planning to pounce miles in advance, networking big time yada yada with little or no success. I strive nevertheless.

Jeeves is a character I can never tire of unlike many other novels and characters. For instance, when I read dear Agatha Christie’s murder mysteries back to back, I get bored of the murders and the thrills and the evergreen game of suspecting the most non – obvious suspect. Beyond a point, even enjoying the smart moves of the indomitable Poirot and the petite old Miss. Marple becomes a weary exercise. However, I can read on and on about anything that involves P. G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and still crave for more. My nearest term goal is to stack up the Wodehouse collection in my small in – house library, stand back and give a satisfied smile.

And, yes, I have been very nostalgic about my books today, all that I have been reading since the age of seven, ‘cos I was poring over them and arranging them in my book case through out last evening. The touch, feel and smell of books! What an enriching way to spend an entire evening!

The Lov(n)ely Road

It was a never ending road, noiseless, devoid even of the occasional bark of the dog and the buzz of the bees.

It was a never ending road, pitch black and plunged in darkness, having escaped the clutches of the silvery moon light and the many twinkling stars.

It was a never ending road, bound by no fence or wall, slave to no tree’s roots and falling leaves.

It was a never ending road, uninhibited by the scorching heat and the freezing cold likewise.

It was a never ending road, with no way back to the start, with only one way ahead, and that, towards the never ending end.

It was a never ending road, out of the world, peaceful, lovely and lonely too!

ECR and me, with not much in between

If there is still something left that ties me to Chennai, other than school of course, it would be ECR (East Coast Road, Chennai). And, it has little to do with partying and the Fisherman’s cove or even just hanging out with friends, for that matter. ECR, to me, has always been a family thing.

The drive on ECR* with that totally beautiful, clear, deep blue sea on the left embraced lovingly by the light sky blue sky (!) with a couple of clouds adorning the spectacle, the wind gushing past hurriedly while still taking time off to my caress my hair, with a treasure trove of Rahman-Maniratnam combo songs going on loop in the car giving company while a brilliantly orangish red ball of fire sets now slowly, now rapidly, on the right! My, my! What a sight!

Being a sea person more than a hills person (not that I am adventurous when in / on / with either, only the ‘sitting back and enjoying’ thingy), the sea has always left me in a trance. Just that, finally, I am out of that fleeting stupor in which the coast revolved around Marine Drive and Goa! They are nice in their own way, but..

The Bay of Bengal is the most beautiful thing on earth!

I still vividly recollect those weekend trips to Prarthana theater, Muttukadu, Kovalam, Mahabalipuram, Pondicherry and Cuddalore! The destination only incidental, the journey on the ECR was always the subject matter of the trip!

It has been almost a decade since then, and I thought I had forgotten ECR, like how I seem to have forgotten the clean roads of Singapore and the biting cold of Kodaikanal (never gone anywhere colder than that yet L)! Yesterday, on a 90 km journey, ECR taught me how grossly wrong I have been all these years! And, no, I was not down memory lane on a nostalgic trip looking back at the fond memories! I was just enjoying ECR like we had never been away from each other for ten odd years, like how when you meet your best friend from school after many years, there is no ‘loss of words’ phenomenon, you just start talking with absolutely no disconnect in sight.

However, unlike other days, this time around, the destination was as much a subject matter as the journey, maybe even more important for a change. I finally, finally managed to go to my first live concert of the King of Music! It was an ARR night! And what a night it was!! Right from Khalbali (Rang De Basanti) to Dil Se Re (Dil Se) to Thamizha Thamizha (Roja) to Fiqrana (Blue), it was such a steal and such a steal with all my favorite songs (as if Rahman had heard my prayers J) that I just could not have asked for more!

The crowd went a little berserk, standing up, standing on chairs, standing on the poled fences, to catch a better glimpse of Him. I too went berserk, much to my Mom’s shock and amusement. Now my friends do I fully understand the total kick in going to a live show and jumping and cheering around with people more fanatic than me as opposed to sitting on my cosy couch in a suave living room and gobbling down shows with just chips and Fanta for company.

My long time dream is fulfilled now; I will go happy and all grinning to the grave!

P.S. Almost the whole of Tamil Nadu was at the venue yesterday. I was nowhere near the Mozart of Madras, the God of Music, to catch a full length, clear picture of him alone, forget taking a picture with him. And no, no autograph either. That is my next and only dream for this lifetime ;) But even otherwise, I will still go happy and grinning to my grave!

* I know it should be ‘the ECR’, but ECR in itself is a brand, a proper noun J