Friday, March 18, 2005

the return of the cup

[never forget where you’ve come here from, never pretend that it’s all real, someday soon this will be someone else’s dream – from “never forget" take that ]


there are some objects which, even though are lost, come back to haunt us as memories. little did i know when i wrote the final chapter of the cup that the story was far from over.

one day, i was coursing through the drudgery of reports, analyses, feedbacks and monitors, which i call work. mush was online and i was chatting with him intermittently. i got a ping from him. “dude, nishant was asking for my blog address”, he said.” wants to read my poems” nishant was our operations manager in windows xp. he was the guy responsible for making the project what it was and someone who was there from the day of its inception. above all, he was someone who we all looked up to. even though mush had left the company months ago he still chats with him regularly. i said that was cool and thought nothing of it.

later i saw him standing near andy’s cube. he, dee and andy where talking. i went over there and we were just chatting when he said that he read my blog. he then went on to give me insights about the previous post and was generally pulling my leg, which he does often, about me being the tree etc… in between the conversation he asked,” where is the cup?” “oops” i thought to myself, “will that thing never leave me?” out loud i said, “its still there. where motu took it” “hmm ok, i am taking it” that was his style, that made us name him tiger. i took the cup and gave it to him and he took it home. kind of was relieved. at least it’s away from me now.

prudence stops me from saying that this is the end. nishant was saying something about the cup looking the right size for sandy to punch him. maybe that would make another interesting chapter in the story. till the next one……..

Saturday, March 05, 2005

bangalored!!!

PROLOGUE

[a house of dreams untold, it looks out over the whispering treetops, and faces the setting sun - edward alexander macdowell]

we were driving back from the long trip. me and dot in the maruti zen. the trip had left us exhausted, physically and mentally. 1000 miles in 2 days was no joke! we had exhausted all topics of conversation. the last 2 hours spent in messaging all the mavericks cryptic messages like “we are far away from bangalore, don’t know when we will be back” it drove most of them up the wall. especially div, vidi and mush.

“how many miles more?” i asked dot.
“we are somewhere outside hosur, should be in bangalore within an hour”
“put on the radio”

he switched on the radio and all i heard was the same static. he was going to turn it off when something made me say, “don’t. let it run” the hour slowly passed, i was slowly drifting off to another nap when suddenly the radio sprang to life.
“radio city….what’s up bangalore!” and the sweet melody of ar’s “e ajnabi” wafted through the kenwood speakers. suddenly our spirits were lifted. the exhaustion gave way to anticipation which turned to elation as we saw a milestone that read: “bangalore 0” we were back. back to the good old city, which i loved.

CHAPTER ONE – EXODUS


[ along a way he knows not, having crossed, a place of drear extent, before him sees, a river rushing swiftly toward the deep, and all its tossing current white with foam, and stops and turns, and measures back his way -
the iliad (bk. v, l. 749)]

i still remember the day i set foot in the city. it was november 30th, 2002. rags, nub and me had almost nothing to do back home after the cat exams. we had exhausted all possible means of recreation and entertainment our place could offer us. i don’t remember who came up with the idea but there we were. cold or freezing cold, smoking furiously on gold flake kings and savoring the sights and sounds of early morning bangalore. we had been to bangalore lot of times before but this time it was different. we had freedom to do what we wanted, freedom to go pub hopping and drink to death. earlier visits were marred by chaperoning uncles or cousins. who were cool but you can’t really get stone drunk and start head banging in styx with your cousin, at least with some one who is 8 years elder to you.

our initial plan was to stay here and enjoy the freedom of being in a strange exciting place for a month, enjoy the pleasures and passions that a big city provides and go back after a month or two, in time for our cat results. our families reluctantly agreed to the idea because they had seen us slogging our backsides off for 8 months in the name of cat. but the plan was not to be, as we later found out.

what transpired was that we never went back. at least not when we planned to go back. the heady mixture of freedom, hedonism, urban-life and profligacy intoxicated us and we decided to stay. i got a job in itc infotech, nub in citibank and rags, the lazy bum he is, chose to remain unemployed and later went back after a month.

the new plan was to stay in bangalore till the mba classes start. nub and rags had decided to do their masters in international business fro psg and i still had my eyes set on mica. this gave us 4 more months of enjoyment. later those two joined for their masters and me…me? well, i am still here.

[to be continued...]