8460 hours

It’s three years since I joined my company!
Aaargh!
Yes, that’s the first expression that I got on my face. I wondered “Should I be happy that I have completed three years under a manager who approves leaves but not our grieves. Perhaps he has his own stuff to take care of but then, there have been complaints folded neatly in the heads of our HR and the other designations which are not taken care of.”

Well.. that would hurt my heart again so I decided not to behave like an unfortunate being and see the brighter side of the three years of the 10-12 hours spend every day
So, that makes it 705 days or 8460 hours.

And, these hours, minus the grief there have been many happy hours. The joy of working on what you love–The sharing of grief with colleagues from diverse backgrounds or the lessons learnt from them.

Be it Karuna from whom I have learnt that one must chill, anyway, not be tensed or Malaica to be as you are and never change for anyone or Shaily to laugh it off and take things with a pinch of salt or Soumma to juggle so well.

I have not been particularly successful in getting rewarded like I do occasionally in my writing world, where the reward is based on the writing, purely and with each rejection I get motivated to improve, but I have received many consolation prizes like wonderful people who have been with me despite my shortcomings, the colleagues who never judge me and genuinely feel happy for my work being selected elsewhere.

Been blessed to learn so many lessons through humiliation and through disgust but then they have bettered me as a human and also helped me understand the various things I should not be bothered about.
A friend once said “why waste your life in doing something you cannot. Instead sharpen your pencil and motivate yourself to do what you love.”

I feel it is so true! My aim here is not to make my supervisors happy with other sorts of “maska chaska” but to better myself. I have had many chances to be dishonest but I luckily stopped my temptation.
Today was another instance of the same. Am glad I honestly went up to my manager and disclosed a mistake that took place. Am sure it happened due to my lack of motivation but a mistake is still one.

Anyway, like I promised, today I shall waste no time in thinking what could have happened or what can I do, rather I promise myself to do continuously what I love despite rejections and despite humiliation.
I am a student in this open school called life and every remark/failure would be a lesson. It doesn’t matter where I end up as I know I’ll be happy at the end of the journey.

If I receive some accolades, that’s great.
Else, I shall move on and not simply, wait.

A few pics of the silly things we did :P!
And, officially my 3rd anniversary at thomson reuters in on 7th July. Another post on my blog[http://nivuuuuu.blogspot.com] by then soon

Dilemma

I have been challenged to be off Facebook for a week. And, as frivolous as it may sound, I feel happy, funny, bored at times and like a recluse once in a while.

The more am off Facebook, the more I am thinking about the similarity. We’re dissimilar of course. But then there are few things which are common, like our writing style.
There are many eminent writers in the past who wrote so distinctively. Be it Manto and his Satire or Khushwant Singh and his adulterated yet poignant writes, Be it RK Narayan and his simplicity, Vikram Seth and his brilliant verses and now the new crop of writers are so similar.
They even use the same clichés!

Am stuck in a dilemma. Without satire or humor, how can one be different? Pepper it with unique experience?
Or add something else.

During writer’s carnival for children, I learnt about spoonerism and Portmanteau. Spoonerism is exchanging the first letter of any two words.
Instead of saying: Let’s go you say Get’s lo.
And in Portmanteau which means a travelling bag, you coin new terms, like chocholic. Chocolate + alcoholic = chocoholic. Or most recently used fantabulous = Fantastic + Fabulous. Something like sandhi samas in Hindi.
In case you know more of such variety, do let me know.
Happy Dilemma-ing to me till then!

Glutton to Glitter Project

Glitter to Glutton to Glitter
The meter did not stay at sixty. It jumped to seventy five. I was shocked. This was a bitter truth I had been trying to avoid. Oh man! All the biryani, icecreams, just one last times and the unavoidable had boo-ed at me.
If you’ve haven’t guessed it yet, I am talking of my embarrassing weight gain. It’s quite embarrassing to talk about it but I thought I can place it in a blog where I was invited because of aerobics.
Yes! Aerobics. I am/was not an employee of Satyam, nor did I have any friends here. Savita [ma’am] invited me as I was her aerobics student.
I take a book along everywhere. Primarily, to avoid any talk [I am an ambivert] and secondly as my dad felt I read too much and might spoil my eyesight I might get spectacles et al, so reading during waiting for the class was ideal. Ma’am observed this couple of times. Once I was reading an article [an old dusty one] stuck on the window pane of the class room, she asked me what was I reading so keenly and we spoke for couple of minutes.
Later she added me here. So, here I am. Made couple of good friends here whom I will cherish for a lifetime. And, no this is no goodbye email. Life has changed a lot since then.
1. Been published in a couple of anthologies, latest one would be where Gulzar saab would be featured too. Extremely happy.
2. Have had couple of heartaches. Learnt a lot.
3. Joined mota-blogs when I just joined work. Will be completing three years soon. Woaah! That’s a long time. Haina?
4. Registered a publishing house: nivasini.com to encourage poetry, translations, stories with a message and children’s writing.
5. And, the reason that made me write here—aerobics is lost somewhere. Here’s a pic of how I changed physically.

And this post is to emphasize on the point that without a good health, 1, 3, and 4 points will have no value. If I am not fit then I will never be able to do the things I want to do for myself and others.

Here goes my project: I will be controlling my erroneous food habits, eat on times, eat more greens, fruits, avoid colas. I will update regularly here about my Glutton to Glitter project here. A couple of more personal projects like reading more books are in the making but I will accomplish this and maybe, write that another day.
So every Monday, I will update about my Glutton to Glitter project.

Why do we write?

Often i come across this question. Why do we write?
Some say to pour creativity, some say to clear your thoughts.
some say to be cool, some say to get that high, they cannot live with out it.

For me, it is an escapede. The world is a noisy place and every one has their opinions, even though they may not always be entitled to.
For me, all those opinions especially from my loved ones make a huge impact in my heart. I go numb and silent.
Since my childhood, in my dreams, I have been correcting these opinions and later, at the age of 21, I started writing.
For example, if something that should not have happened happens to me, maybe my father was angry and scolded me.

He is the evil person in my story and I can do anything with him in my story or my character.
It’s not that I hate my father or something. Just that, I wish to make my life less depressing.

The flipside is, i felt everything was alright and never spoke about it.
The line between my dream writing and my real life was so thin that sometimes i behaved as if everything went normal.

But now, that am grown up, i hardly do such things.
Funnily, I also did the everything is okay thing with my school friend.
And, as a result, she did not speak to me for months.

I then went and told her that this was something i did because am not that brave to confront and realised that it becomes more hurtful [when i do so] as the entire episode of why they did so gets replayed and often i got more offended.

So, I write, so create a fantasy world for me and to escape from the don’ts and do all the don’ts in my dream.
I make my past perfect, future tensed and makes life more beautiful.

The mundane looks wonderful to me while writing.

Why do you write?

Melodrama of silence

In that bench that longed for us
Clasping hands, like shy newlyweds we sit
Wonder how this ill-sized hand,
Entwined in yours became a perfect fit

Look away from each other
But our fingers are knotted together

Not a word we say !
Gripping your hand, tight
These stubborn tears have forgotten to fight

They escape and cut the fully blossomed cheek
Inflammatory! No! Shan’t reminisce
Those memories ought to grow weak

Thankfully, Losing its patience,
The sweat of time now settles on the palm
Urging us to mellow down and stay calm

Knotted!
Liberated!
Looted!

The melodrama of silence …
Is harsher than the wrathed death sentence

Chor Chor!*

She was crying bitterly. All her valuables, her gold, the hard earned money of her parents and more importantly the reason we toil everyday so hard was stolen.

Burgled? Unfortunately, yes! One of my friends’ home was robbed and all we could do was gape and give some solace to her and watch as the respective authorities one by one had come and done their part.

My friend is an intelligent, strong, dependable and most importantly a very nice and a humble person. We had never seen her shattered. She gulped down her tears and answered every detail to the Police and then to her relatives. Some of them sympathized and some of them said they were clairvoyant and knew this would happen. We tried to support her as much as we could.

We stayed throughout pacifying her and thank her stars that a life was not lost. But she continued to moan about the lost money and jewels. It was understandable. After all, it was so many years of hard work. The reason you sometimes get reprimanded for, mellow down and calm your ego at your workplace as you know it might affect your ratings or it might jeopardize your chance to get a higher appraisal.

But, all those moments seemed futile now as a group of sly and observant people had taken it away. The concerned authorities might help but the chances of getting back everything was bleak.

The robbers are observant and sly. They know the routine of their target. In my friends’ case, her parents were out of town. Her brother leaves to work at 9 am and she leaves to work at 10 50 am. The robbery had taken place between 11 to 12 20 or 12 30 as her brother got a call from a neighbor who had come to visit their home around 12 40.

The robbers have spies for them and sometimes the domestic help take this role too for their share.

I had witnessed burglary in my own Apartments too.

The robbers had targeted two flats. One was a couple who was out for work the whole day and second was a lady who lived alone. Thankfully, the lady was not attacked as she was visiting someone’s house that day. This was the first time it happened in our Apartments. We were SHOCKED!

And, although the authorities had done their bit to retain the valuables, robbed, only half of it was retained as the robbers had either melted and made the jewellary into mounds.

They are much much smarter than us. In my Apartments, these are few precautionary measures we took:

Put up a hired security professional apart from the regular set of watchmen.
Ensure every stranger is questioned and the purpose of his or her visit is cross verified with the flat owners.
Have only one main entrance and lock any other entrance to avoid confusion for the watchmen and create an opportunity for the robbers.
Our residents of our apartments have been living together for more than two decades so we know each other very well and are quite cordial. So we internally ensured that we knew about each others’ whereabouts.
If you’re living in an independent house then ensure that

All the valuables are kept in a Bank lockers. And, it is better you have an account in State Bank of India or Canara Bank.
Do not every tell your domestic help about your schedules or whereabouts if you plan to go out of town.
Ensure your neighbours know that you are going out of town.
Make the lock facility tight. Do not use feeble wooden doors which are easy to break into.
And last but not the least, please ensure you have a door hole or a key hole so that if anyone knocks your door, you first peep through to see who it is. Many a times, in the garb of a plumber or a carpenter, the robbers break into tour house.

Please add if you think my thoughts have been robbed by emotions.

Be safe. Live happily!

*Thief ! Thief! — It is a common epiphanic cry among the looted.

Gabbilam [Bat]

To be born as a Bat.. Unfortunate!
Cursed!
Despised!
Canst I be fed like a Cat?
Or sought after like a Rat?
Admired—like the Swan
Or be blessed like a Unicorn?
In the gloom of the night
When I seek solace
Or a comfortable place
Shoo-ed..by the flame of the light

Scouting for comfort..
Ah! Joy!
Hanging upside down
from the branch of the trees
Enjoying myself in the company of my tribe,
relishing the breeze

But..
Blamed! Named!
the bereaved in me they see
Blasphemously worshiped!
Or labelled symbol of disgust
What am I? Whom do I believe?

Inspired by the poem, Gabbilam {means Bat in the classical language, Telugu} by Gurram Jashuva.
The poem is basically to bring out the injustice to the Untouchables. Gurram Jashuva has poured his heart out in the original poem. Here it is: http://yemanna.wordpress.com/2010/08/16/gabbilam-i/ — you can read the original poem with Translation in English.