The Honeymoon Phase

I have decided that I love notice periods: the longer the better. For a change, you can do what you want (even if it means laughing at your manager’s face because she just crossed the boundaries of ridicule) and not be worried about how it will affect your appraisal, you love the fact that your manager is scared to bully you because she knows that you can screw her case in the exit interview, and of course, you are no longer burdened with fudging your hours charged on projects, of taking inane trainings to comply with the mandatory requirements, or filling up hundred useless trackers which really add no value to anybody. But the best part of the notice period is the FREEDOM: the freedom to speak your mind, the freedom to disagree, the freedom to be rude. Even though I don’t yet know what lies ahead, I totally love being in the notice period; it’s a luxury that most people miss out on because they are so excited about joining the new job and try to buy out their notice period or adjust it with their leaves. Me, I like the extended honeymoon phase…

And on a totally different note, Happy Durga Puja!

The Common Man

This weekend was one of a kind: for a few hours I actually diverted my mind from the most important thing in this world: MYSELF, and focused on the bigger picture, the bigger India, so to speak.

I watched Peepli Live: probably the most brilliant movie of this year- satirical, funny, and poignant at the same time. It tackled a serious issue (farmer suicides) and yet it never took itself too seriously, it conveyed a message and yet it did not preach, it highlighted the plight of the common man and yet it wasn’t pompous. It definitely was Oscar material: it showed the darker, poorer side of India which is the defining criteria for an Indian film to get noticed at an international forum. India Shining has no takers but poverty surely sells!

But more than Peepli Live, it was “The Common Man”- a theatre based on RK Laxman’s iconic cartoon which dominated the front pages of The Times of India for decades that stole my heart. Make no mistake, I am not the arty kinds; I don’t regularly visit art galleries or Prithvi Theatre every weekend, and I definitely don’t appreciate anything which remotely suggests, ‘good taste’: classical music, instrumental, book launches and so on and so forth. In my life I have watched some 4 theatres in total, the first one being ‘Class of 84’ in my college auditorium: Sophia Bhabha Hall. So on Saturday, when I had a chance to watch Professor Ajit Kelkar (apparently he is famous) as The Common Man in my college auditorium after four years, I couldn’t refuse. While the technical glitches were embarrassing, the performance was outstanding. The 90 minute show traversed the sixty years of political history in India post independence through selected cartoon strips: the humour was subtle, the sarcasm was apparent, and the attack on politics was politely scathing. It did make me feel guilty for not voting, it did stir me out of my usual apathy towards politics, it did make me conscious of my indifference.

Call it a temporary insanity, but for a couple of hours, I was actually entertaining thoughts of being a ‘responsible citizen’, of ‘doing something to change the system’, of ‘making a difference’, but by later in the night, I was back to being myself, i.e. uploading my CV and applying for jobs.

That time when I tell myself that ALL jobs have dignity including this...

Here is the latest from my never-ending quest for the perfect job (apparently, like the perfect man, the concept of the perfect job is also a myth)…

Yesterday I get an email from a popular job site, addressed specifically to me…
My reaction: Sigh of relief (at least this isn’t one of those mass mails for call centre/BPO profiles)

The role is of an ‘advisor’ which sounds respectable and impressive…
My reaction: Interested I scroll down for more details

Salary is 15k-17k per month with incentives ranging from 3k-40k pm…
My reaction: Dampened, but still curious about the 40k incentive per month, I scroll down further

The ‘prime responsibility’ is stated as “cold calling and selling sexual enhancement products to U.S. clients”…
My reaction: Remove CV from job site immediately (only to upload it back on the next morning)

But seriously, why am I getting shortlisted for such bizarre roles?

Destiny's Child

It was one of those games…

The Indian cricket team has mastered the art of crumbling under pressure and snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. So it was just another day when the team was tottering on the brink of a loss with most of the superstars back in the pavilion on the fifth day chasing a modest target. It was left to a young bowler, who in his crude and unsophisticated way managed to do what no other record holding batsmen could manage: DEFEND and safely see off the maximum number of balls. Ishant Sharma was an unlikely hero.

But this post is not about him (he is young, talented and good looking: surely there will be more opportunities to drool over him). This is about that veteran genius who never quite got the recognition he deserved: may be because he played in an era which belonged to the Little Master, may be because he had neither the princely arrogance of Ganguly, the quiet dignity of Dravid, the effortless elegance of Yuvraj, or even the daunting spirit of Dhoni. This is about the soft spoken, lanky guy from Hyderabad with a difficult name, who can weave magic with his wrists. This is about the unassuming guy who never quite lived up to his potential, who battled fitness throughout his somewhat uneven career graph, and who became my hero ever since Azharuddin broke my heart by ALLEGEDLY getting involved in match-fixing… (it’s already been proven that I have bad taste in men)

Notwithstanding his setbacks, his inconsistency, and his long patches of drought, the one thing he has done regularly is make the Aussies lose their sleep over him. A decade-long nemesis for the world’s most clinically professional team, he has crafted out some remarkable victories for India, and this time he did it again, denying Team India the royal collapse they are famous for!

This post is for the Destiny’s Child, this post is for the Underdog, this post is for VVS (Very Very Sexy) Laxman…

Answer is blowing in the wind...

Pride or Prejudice?

Moving on or Holding on?

Pragmatism or Romanticism?

Giving up or Just Giving?

To be or Not to be?

Stretching Yourself

How far would you go for that exotic vacation?
How far would go for those pair of boots you have eyeing forever?
How far would you go for that dress that catches your eye each time you pass by that store?
How far you would you got that dream job?... Well this one I know!

Two weeks back I came across my dream profile on a popular job site: it promised everything I could ever dream of: a good brand, an informal fun work culture, an entrepreneurial set up where you can exercise your creative freedom, walking distance from where I stay, and most of all, finally someone was willing to pay me for doing what I love to do: write, create, communicate! Further, I was the perfect profile fit in terms of my educational background and my work experience, which is rare and surprising. It seemed too good to be true.

In my excitement, I applied immediately, and made a spelling error in the subject line, which is like a sure shot way of getting rejected. Kicking myself, I resend the mail, this time, making sure that there were no silly mistakes. I waited with bated breath for 2 days, but there was no response. Then to make matters worse, the weekend came in the way. I have never hated weekends as much as I do now: they come in the way of my passion- looking for jobs and being approached for the same! Weekends, I have decided, are a precious waste of time. Anyway, to get back to the story, it was Monday, and I was brimming with excitement. It was 5 p.m. and still no response. By now, I was desperate, and desperate situations call for desperate measures. I started stalking the HR lady! I added her on linkedin, with a personal note introducing myself and how keen I was on the profile (read, I pleaded and begged), I checked her out on facebook (we had five common friends… beat that!!), and oh yes, I called the number given on the ad some 29 times in the next 2 days! By Thursday, I was about to lose my mind. I looked up the board line on google, and finally there was some response. Office boy politely informed me that “madam is in a meeting.” Through the day I spoke to the office boy five times, and I think he just got fed up of hearing my voice, so finally at 6 p.m. in the evening, I finally managed to talk to ‘madam’ for all of 30 seconds. I nearly choked with the excitement. She politely informed me that they have received hundreds of resumes and she will get back to me if I fit the role. I treasured those 30 seconds like it was the most awaited phone conversation from the distant love of my life.

FYI, I am yet to make any progress and I am planning to crash into her office if I don’t get a call soon!

P.S.: How far would you go for love? Don’t think you can put a limit to that…