Oh God! When would I get to know you?

This week was comparatively less stressful and at the same time more painful. I have got a really bad mail from a customer. Nobody ever made me so greatly ashamed. I can't even share with you how it happened. I had been sandwiched b/w our own confidential terms and the customer's interrogative questions. I doubt the customer is a retired detective in Defence department. I was very much disappointed by Ram's response when I showed him the mail. He just said "Let's wait and see how the big guys respond?" What!! Aren't you one?? I immediately advised my kids(I mean Saritha and Dev) to never accept to support a customer.

When the customer was about to kill me with his fangs oozing the strongest words of insult, I called Narayan, an FAE from US office to give me some help. I am not exaggerating but he completely relieved me from all the pain. He asked me to relax and not to respond to any of the customer's scene creating mails and to answer only for clear technical questions. After talking to him, my impression of Ram got strengthened. We secretly named our small work room "The Release Factory" because we don't know when Ram would say "Today we have a release." I hate Ram even more when he is together with that new guy. They both will go to an extreme as it would blow you brains out. Nobody here likes me when I criticize Ram. So don't get away even if you are bored of my office gossip.

I thought I was dreaming but not. Chichikov has really become devotional. He is going to church on Sundays. His laptop's wallpaper is now Jesus wearing the crown of thorns and some message by the side. I thought anybody including myself would do that but not Chichikov. How mysteriously the impressions are broken. On the side thought, why am I never made to realize God? why am I remorseless? do I have to wait yet? what else can change me when Raj's death couldn't do it?

Lolita is certainly a fall after you read Dostoevsky, Chekov, Gogol and Tolstoy. Nabokov was not even upto the mark that Turgenev made. I have been reading it from a month but there are still 100 more pages to go. The book is not as attractive as it's cover. He might have had a point, but it is all diluted by modernism and illustrations. In the meanwhile I completed The Essential Calvin and Hobbes. I liked Calvin evaluating performance of his nature-loving dad as dad.

The heavy week

This week was the most 'incidental' week of my whole life. It is full of activities. At office, I had to release something or the other every two days. Just not that, I had to receive and accept all the comments from reviewers and customers whether I like it or not. Most of the times, I don't like them. Nashi was almost living at her office. But she taught me with so much difficulty over phone at midnight how to make a paper cube without glue. My intention was to learn the same from her ten year old little sister, Faiza. Because of the wrong timing, I was trapped with Nashi's terrible teaching skills. At last, I could make something badly crumpled only to make it look like a cube. Personally, little happiness. I talked to a friend after five months. But before I share this with Chichikov, a dramatic twist happened in his life and he was doomed. And the doom spreads as everything does among friends. With Asha, I never expected any friendly relation would rise b/w us. But I nearly cried when I talked to her yesterday. Secret is(Of course not anymore), I wept when she was walking down the aisle. Then I wished her to be the most irritating wife. Now my intentions are quite opposite. I wish them to be happy together. Dolores Haze and Humbert Humbert are just ignored. I didn't catch up with them from a week. I know, I will regret later, but I hate my parents as much as I hate my other relatives.

Nagamandala

Nagamandala, Written by Girish Karnad, Directed by Ram Mohan Holagundi.

This play is not for general crowd (which pitifully includes me) who would enjoy the slapstick humour though one never believes in it for true. Not for them, who may actually sympathise with the misery but would be anxious to cover it in the cheek twitches of guffaws. This is for the real art lovers who would want to enjoy the confusion of the protagonist by her husband's dual personality, his don't-ask-me-why's and when he asks her to keep her pregnancy a secret from himself.

Attractions:
1. Mrunal, who acted as Karudavva is superb. She has got a very strong voice and a very distinct expression.
2. Playwright (Ashutosh) and Story wearing the song(Sowmya) roles are small but lively.
3. The little boy who acted as dog seemed to have done proper research on dogs.
4. Occasional dances of the 'flames'

Drawbacks:
1. Repetitive scenes and felt dragging in the middle. I think, Ram didn't take any liberty to cut it short from the novel.
2. Though English is universal, Telugu or Hindi translations would have been excellent.

Moral of the story:
In Story's words, People would accept a woman either as slave or as a Goddess, but never an equal.

To my surprise, the owner of a random blog, I have been following for an year or so, was there last night and had complained about our kind of group in his post. Sorry Sir! Thanks to all my friends, who came along with me for the show and been through the two endings of the story.

I am a fool, I thought of rewriting my hate poem. That can never be.

What happened: I fought with my HR. (I hate her the most. believe me, more than Harpreet)

Result : I had the usual "special meetings" with my Project Manager about the "special privileges" I had.

Conclusion : I am not speaking to my HR (silly. I did that always) and avoiding my manager.

Consequence : I don't speak to half the people around. (Coercive Diplomacy)

Future Plan : Dust off the resume(Where is it??).

Neighbouring Prospect : I guess, I would just be 'normal' in a week.

May be it's not a gender issue at all and I misconstrued the whole point. Possible. Even then, I couldn't be silent when one tries to control me or make all the decisions for me even if that one is my employer(My (poor) parents know this better!!). It is just horrible to bow your head for whom you have no respect. It is good to work here but one would be forced to hate dealing with HR-dominated management.

I do not wish to have any "special privileges" just because I'm a woman.

Foreword

I'm ashamed to admit that my next three posts would be based on the real incidents. I couldn't have been inspired to write by the sufferings of my dear friends, but writing is irresistible when something is real and also painful. At some parts, you may think, I'm exaggerating greatly, but no. I am dumb and cannot go creative even to extend a single letter to what I knew or have experienced. I am writing here without their knowledge. I hope they'll never come to know about it and feel more depressed of being used for my writing pleasure.

Talk

Nasir comes back home thinking how he must teach the value of money and also of time to his brother-Nadir. It is not exactly his first attempt to do that.

"Today I shall speak to him. I am his only brother. Then who else will teach him, if not me? I am not worried about the money. Money is nothing when it's compared to Nadir. I hate money, but I'll save it for its vileness. Otherwise, I knew how it would strangle the poor lives and empty stomachs. In the days, when I was not financially as comfortable as I am now, I lost the money I saved for Nadir's Ist semester examination fee. Then I felt like, some unknown force, possibly the power of money punched me in the stomach. I scolded myself for a month and suffered badly for my recklessness. I could have asked Abba, but that wouldn't be gentlemanly because I already promised Abba that I would take care of Nadir from the day I start earning. I borrowed the money from my colleague and paid him back in the next month. But after that, I tried to avoid him and always felt ashamed of talking to him. My only concern is Nadir shall not feel these bad things and yet he shall learn how the world works in the easiest way possible...."

Contemplating thus, Nasir rings the door bell. A minute later, Nadir opens the door carefully tucking his mobile between his left ear and the left shoulder. After wishing Nasir with a smile, he goes on talking to his friends planning his weekend schedule.

Nasir, after he gets refreshed sets out for the kitchen, picking up some brinjals, onions and some mirchi which is almost dry from the basket stand in the corner and is constantly thinking of how to start the talk. Nadir hangs up the phone finalising the meeting place be Runway-9.

Nasir after cleaning the brinjals, keeps one under the knife of the vegetable cutter.

Runway-9? Isn't that a place for rich brats to beat their doldrums?

He cuts the green stem at its head.

I shall tell him that I cannot afford to spend money on these luxuries. Even if I can, I'm not willing to.

Two careful cuts to make it in four.

It would be too harsh to say things like that. These young people are too sensitive when they are taught sense.

He holds all the four pieces together, to cut them across. The first cut.

But What if he laughs at me calling me a counting machine?

Nadir shouts into the kitchen, "Bhaiyya, less chilli, last time it was too hot.. Do you need any help?"

Whatever, I shall tell him today. OK. I'll tell him as gently as possible. But why am I afraid to speak to my own brother?

Antoher cut and the knife goes over his ring finger letting the way for the blood that eagerly streams out and he cries an Ouch! Nadir goes into kitchen in a jump and runs here and there for cotton, when he finds his brother's finger is cut. He goes on like that till he finds it, not even listening to his brother who is actually telling him where it is. He wipes off the blood that is already out and uses it as stopper for his brother to hold. He takes over the kitchen for the day and orders Nasir to relax.

Nasir relaxes himself stretching his body on the bed that laid on the floor.

Nadir loves me as dearly as I love him. I am happy, my finger is cut. Actually I can cut it everyday, if such a love will be expressed by him. He is the sweetest kid I've seen. Haven't you seen how he was running -like crazy when he saw the blood? And here I am, counting every penny he spends and ready to lecture him at every opportunity. He is very young to understand this. He still needs time. On Sundays of our childhood, after lunch, we had to sit in the veranda and study for an hour before we were allowed to play. We had to keep watch for each other while my parents would take a nap inside. On a Sunday like that, Nadir just stopped reading and started looking into the air. To keep my watch, I asked him what he was doing. I am sure nobody can guess what he said. He said he can see something in the air. Later he corrected that he can see and distinguish hydrogen from oxygen if only he was a bit more attentive while taking his chemistry lessons. He said he can see some Ameba-like random structures sometimes merging with and sometimes breaking off from the other similar structures. First I didn't believe him. As he persuaded me to try myself, I tried but couldn't find anything. Now I believe him, he might have had really seen all that he described. He couldn't have lied to me. Based on this, can't he ... he who can see the things in the general crowd's nothingness, learn these lessons of life quickly? Do I really still need to teach him everything like sciences and mathematics? May be it is needed because I shall not always stick to pleasing and spoiling him. My only wish is in his being the best of the world with as less hardships as possible. May be I shall excuse this time and postpone this talk for some other time. Or may be I could do it only now.. otherwise I would keep finding excuses to avoid this dreadful talk...

Nasir eats, sleeps and wakes up with the same thought 'whether to talk or not to talk' for two days and suffers from a fever. Nadir gets surprised trying to relate the finger-cut and the fever..

Surprise

I was at the foot of the mountain called "Social Relations" which is bright on one side and dark on the other. I started from the brighter side with so much shyness and fear of strangers. My mother says one of my teachers, scared of my reclusiveness advised her to consult a doctor for a check-up if I was mentally healthy. As I climbed up the mountain through rocks of shyness, feelings of unworthiness, I could only make those three or four friends.

But surprisingly, when I reached the peak, everybody I spoke to had become my friend. I lived like 'The wanted" for most of my friends. There it wasn't all bright but I enjoyed all those hues of nature. I don't know why I didn't stay there in that heaven. I had become squeamish and choosy in the matter of relations. I started hating people for trivial things though my intention was to love them. Only recently, I understood that I was making my return journey through darker side of the mountain.

I try but cannot keep to myself by my nature and wouldn't even get along with people. Here in this darkness, when someone offers a hand of friendship, I step back for the fear that my finicky mind would certainly wrong that beautiful hand someday if not today. Sruthi surprised me with a pretty note for the friendship day. I was shocked as I never expected one from any of my colleagues and certainly not from Sruthi. To you it may seem nothing of importance, but it was a shock to me. If I have myself as an acquaintance, I wouldn't have dared to meddle with such an inconstant mind. For now, I replied her only with "Thanks" and haven't advanced further.