Corporate Drama...contd

Actually the meeting room is not boring. The architect has tried his level best to make the meetings as interesting as possible from his end; probably he knew the purpose of the room and the people who would be using it. The huge meeting room has good texture painted walls with yellow and blue lights. In the middle of the wall there is a huge circle engraved and is written our mission statement Think Money. Think FICI. Now if any person had money and he/she is sane then FICI should be the last thing to think of-we have highest brokerage in the market, we have more number of inactive customers than the active ones, don’t want to spend on customers but still want new customers and the best part is we are like damads of the family don’t want to take any responsibility but still want to enjoy the royal treatment and take credit of anything good happening (which is a rare case in my company).

I take a seat in the meeting and the meeting begins. No. I am not the guest of honour, nor it is that without me the meeting should not start or that I will give some valuable inputs. Its just that they were waiting that the conference room door should be shut before the meeting begins and its an unsaid rule of corporate-if you are invited to the meeting last minute then you have to contribute by acts like- shut the door, make arrangement of tea in the meeting, jump off from the seat the minute projector stops working, etc. The lower your designation more times you jump off your seat in the meetings for different reasons.

The meeting is pretty boring as its an agency –client meeting. There is this agency who has come up with an idea of a high profile event for our esteemed customers. Poor guys don’t know what they have landed in- its like asking a zamindar who has made his living looting farmers to invest in mall property. Its difficult to get money from my firm especially for an event like charity fashion show. I actually started imagining my boss acting like zamindar sitting in verandah on bed made of wood and nylon strings holding a hukka and just not listening to the party who has come up with a decent proposal. The scene is same only difference is we are in AC rooms, instead of bed there are huge chairs with wheels, there is tea replacing hukka…cigarette would have been the replacement but I think again the architect foresighted this and put smoke detectors.

As the modern day zamindar- peasant exploitation is going on, I am interrupted by vibration of my cell phone and I realize its not me the whole meeting is interrupted by it. Although its on vibration still it makes a drilling sound…damn these glass top tables. Earlier I knew without seeing the msg that who it would be but now I just grab the cell and open the msg. I should’ve known –someone is offering me flat 56% discount on LED TV’s. Atleast they are trying to make me happy from their end J

Now that I am disturbed from my imagination, let me concentrate on the meeting. There should be something I can learn from it. I’ve seen my boss giving attitude to outsiders- he says if we are firm on what we say and talk about numbers it adds weight and there are less chances of getting bluffed. And its always fun to act serious and authoritative as if you are the only decision maker for this 300 crore multinational company. I want to contribute to the discussion but I don’t know what stage these formal wearing, English speaking peasants n zamindars have reached. I should take that tonic which mom always wanted to give me for better concentration. I start listening to whats the discussion about. Thankfully its still at the stage where my boss is explaining the business model of our organization…I think he started with background of the company right from the history of the stone fixed at the entrance which has the company establishment date engraved on it. I share jokes on this with my friend who is not part of the team. She msgs “ Tell him that brand team was not in place that time otherwise they would have rejected the stone for the font being non-compliant” I was about to laugh on the same but I realized I was in meeting and I am trying to concentrate. At one point of time I was scared that my boss don’t disclose the appraisal system of the company but to my horror he started telling the story of how he got promotion this year. For a moment  the 2 guys from agency and me, all 3 had same expression : we-are-not-marrying-our-daughter-to-u-lets-stick-to-business.

I again got bored and started studying the meeting room. Think Money. Think FICI. Seriously if anyone had money, why would they think of us- they can think of shopping, holidaying in Bangkok, lavish weddings. If people want to make money they should be thinking of KBC, winning a lottery, aspire to marry kids of mallya, ambani’s, etc. In any case they should not think of us, the only person who thought of us and got money is the copywriter of the creative agency who got this line for us. In the process of getting that look of concentration I start concentrating on the brown n yellow wall opposite me. I see some shoe stamps on the lower side and for the first time I see it so keenly that I discovered its not texture painting. Its bloody wallpaper. It’s a wallpaper. I want my name on the company website for this discovery, if not that atleast I want to share it with my friends. With excitement I pick up my phone to msg them and before I could unlock it and type, I hear those 3 haunting words- MINUTES OF MEETING.

Blank. My mind is blank. I don’t know if I heard –“Sanjana will mail minutes of the meeting” but I am sure this occurred just when I discovered the wallpaper. I looked around the room and I realized yes it has to be me, I was the junior most person. The unsaid rule again- the lower your designation, the more intellectual looks u give, the more good looking you are(if you are a female)- the crappiest work you are assigned-write minutes of the meeting. But I don’t know what was discussed in the meeting, we are not allowed to give inputs then how can they expect that we hear everything. I shout in my mind- you cannot trap me like this. We get up and shake hands- wait, please someone tell me what was discussed.

In return what I get is -Bye. Hope to hear from you soon. I hate wallpapers L

Corporate drama

Its March month, month of heat…month of exams…month of appraisals, financial year end. As a kid march to me signified only the beginning of heat, when I grew up little older it was exams month and now when I am working- it’s the appraisal month (combination of heat and exams)

There’s a different wave in office in the month of march and april, people tend to change their habits. Right from being punctual to wearing short skirts, punching documents which doesn’t even require filing to getting facials done. No stone should be left unturned rather no file should be left unsubmitted. You never know what would click for your promotion or a good salary hike, hence a corporate employee would never take a chance in the month of march. In my office there is no different story. Infact few employees undergo a personality makeover, overnight they become leader, philosopher, strategist, mentor…even if it is to mentor an office boy, mentoring is a must. If professional and personal traits lack, for few employees biological rhythm comes to rescue- these species set their biological clock according to their boss’. They are hungry only when their boss is at lunch, are in tension and need a puff only when boss is at a sutta break, attend nature’s call when your boss rejects all your official calls. Given a chance such employees would get a plastic surgery done to look like their boss in order to prove their loyalty towards them. Thank God, there’s no corporate discount on such surgeries.

I also tried to explore my acting skills in this corporate daily soap but failed miserably. Every time I tried to follow my boss’ instructions - I was asked to use my brains, I tried to praise him for some work- I was scolded for crossing my limits. So I happily opted out (was thrown out ) of this virtual ‘I am the future of this company’ race. Amidst of all this me and my small group of friends have managed to maintain our sanity and are surviving like gold chains on Bappi Lahiri, each one having high market value but stuck in a wrong place.

Today I am late and my boss is yet to ruin the day- he hasn’t reached. If the regular politics was not enough, today there is a special performance as I have a client meeting. My desk phone rang, I picked up with as usual, 90% excitement hoping it would be him,10% I-know-he-wont-call feeling. As expected I royally failed for 108 millionth time. It was none other than - my only loyal fan in office…my much glorified and acclaimed….meri kabil dost- my front desk receptionist who called to inform about client’s arrival. I am waiting for the day when she would call and tell me : Mam, there’s someone named gaurav on the line for you. Should I transfer the call?  But I know this day won’t come because A) I know, he won’t call. His ego hasn’t given up. B) If he has to, he has my direct extension he would never call on boardline number and c) this receptionist doesn’t have much patience, as soon as she’ll come to know a guy has called for me, without permission she will transfer the call. So the day Mam, there’s someone named gaurav on the line for you. Should I transfer the call?  Will never come.

But that’s ok if Rakhee can hope that her dead sons will come alive in the same life with same physique n heroic looks, I am just expecting a call from an already alive guy. Only difference is that was a movie and this is my real life. But then Karan Arjun was a hit film, Rakhee’s dedication paid off somehow, so should mine. Let the calls come.

I entered the boring meeting room……

Part IV- Flashback contd...

I ran towards them, hugged them, answered their questions, reacted to Mom’s gossip about a distant cousin getting engaged, dad’s cribbing of getting the car from parking lot, mom’s counter cribbing on why to park the car so far, etc etc… I turned back to see what is he upto, but he already vanished. I sat in the car thinking was he for real or just that I missed him so much that I actually imagined him there. Its not a film going on and if he was for real then how can he just vanish without even saying a ‘hi’ to me. If he was there atleast he should have called or a normal ‘hello’ even with family like what Ajay devgan did in Yuva would not have harmed. Why doesn’t he watch hindi movies. I was upset with him and with myself, if it was my imagination. Whatever it is, I did not like it. I thought of SMS-ing him while I was on my way back home but then I had to check about his existence on the airport few minutes back so I kept myself occupied with questions and gossip dose coming from my parents and refused to text him. As soon I reached home and crashed down on my sofa my cell phone vibrated. I knew it was a msg and who was the
sender.

It read : I am waiting.
I replied : Wait is over, I am back in town.
1 new message received : You need to be back in my arms, irrespective of town. I am waiting outside your building.

Again there was a bungee jump by my heart. I informed my parents that I forgot my official cell phone in car and will be back in 10 min. I still couldn’t believe that he followed 30kms all the way from airport to my building. Even if he was not waiting down there, I can utilize the 10 min time for calling him and scolding him for such jokes. I wore my slippers and rushed down.

A sky blue wagonR was waiting down stairs a little away from my gate. I walked down towards the car, peeped through the window to check if it was his car. The fair complexion could not be missed even through the dark sun film of window during night time. I opened the door and sat next to him. His crisp white shirt and provogue belt confirmed that it was him on the airport and also that he was there for me. He was gazing at me endlessly. This time I could see straight into his twinkling eyes, could smell his perfume, can touch him, wanted to ask him why is he here. Confused what to do first, I just lowered the AC of his car and asked him ‘why were you wearing goggles at the airport?’

He answered with a child like innocence: Bcoz I didn’t want to miss a single chance of impressing you when u step down in the city. I wanted to be the first one you can see once you come back, I wanted to grab your attention anyhow. I was confused whether I look good with shades or without it so I took a chance of with shades as it was airport, its normal there. Now you can see me without shades here. By now I was done playing with AC and switched to music system. I was just flipping through the channels avoiding him to the max. I stopped at a frequency where a half sleepy man was trying to be seducing and solving love problem of nocturnal human beings with the help of love songs. I snapped back, "Gaurav Arora, don’t act smart with me, I noticed you at the airport. There was no need for you to come all the way to Thane". Why have you come here? Still concentrating at the dashboard.

Actually I came to check the effect of delhi water, air and boys on you. All 3 are quite harmful for you. I wanted to show you my new shades and also there was no date waiting for me tonight so I thought I’ll just check out the crowd at airport and I found you there.

I just changed the channel in anger and the song played

Aarzoo hai mere sapnon ki
Baitha rahoon teri baahon mein
Sirf tu mujhe chaahe ab
Itna asar ho meri aahon mein
Tu keh de haske to tod doon main rasmon ko
Marke bhi na bhooloon main teri kasmon ko
Main to aaya hoon yahan pe bas tere liye

As I was about to change, he held my hand I turned to him and before I could reply back to his nasty comments, before I could change the frequency, his cupid bow shaped lips had found its target. He held my face in both hands and kept on kissing me as if asking for compensation for every minute of the time I was in Delhi. His hands caressed my neck and thumbs on my cheek, now radiating heat due to my misadventures with AC and lack of experience in kissing, since it was my first one. For a second he stopped,blowed my hair falling on my face behind my ear and continued kissing my cheeks and lips. It was not the air he blowed but the love bestowed upon me. I wanted to love him back but was still scared to kiss on the lips. I kissed him on his smooth clean shaved cheeks holding a hand over his broad shoulders and neck. I could sense he was still very happy and his crooked smile turned into a full moon smile. His smile was killing and it did kill the time. I saw the time, gave a good bye peck on his cheek once again and before it could start all over again, I unlocked the door.

He said good bye but his eyes did not. I couldn’t feel anything till the time I reached the lift. Only thing that was going in my mind was the song….Dil ko tumse pyaar hua…the only last thing that registered in my mind.

I did not realize when the song ended and there were traffic updates. My bus almost reached my stop and thanks to my bus-mate pooja I got down at the right time. She was carrying the same Mumbai Mirror which I was asked to read. I thought If only Gaurav would come back and tell my receptionist that I can now write such articles, let alone making notes of it. I smiled, as I didn’t know if he was to come back but I knew such articles surely gonna come everyday and I cant run away. Neither from these articles nor from my receptionist. :)

Part III- Flashback

I was tired and sleepy after a 3hr delayed flight from Delhi to Mumbai. It was my new job and first time I was out on a business tour- a tour where your only business is to rip off your company in all the possible way right from getting sponsored your food, roaming charges, rickshaw bills to the shampoo you steal from the hotel while checking out even though its free. My parents were very proud that finally they can have some peaceful time at home when someone else is bearing the cost and facing the embarrassment of stolen shampoo. But still with all the excitement they came to pick me up at the airport. I just don’t understand the fetish of Indian parents coming to pick their kids at the airport even if the kid is returning from Goa. They will hug you for 1 minute and as if the hug had some magical powers, your parents undergo into a split personality. You are crticised for what you are wearing, for the flight you choose, your hotel name, room tariff even though its company sponsored, what you ate in flight, ate or not, why you look so tired, was there anything wrong in the trip, download of family gossip when you were away…all at the same time and same place…airport!! And you keep wondering where did all the love go after that hug.

Since I’ve already had the experience of all this, I was well prepared for it. I did not bother on combing my hair or checking on the spread kajal as I was to go back home only that too with my parents who would anyways comment on my looks. Plus it would give a look that I m very tired as if I only navigated the aircraft and would be saved from the bombardment of queries. With my this stupid solid plan in my mind and one stroller in my hand I walked out from the exit door of the airport looking for my parents.

Before I could spot them, amidst of all the eager faces, bored taxi drivers, uniformed sophisticated hotel pick up drivers, I saw the face which skipped my heartbeat for a second and I ignored him. Was not sure if he was actually here. But I looked back at him, if he is not here still I should not miss that handsome face looking at me. To my surprise rather shock, it was him, Gaurav was here!! Wearing crisp white shirt, dark denims and ofcourse his favourite navy blue provogue belt. Traces of thick silky black hair falling on his smooth forehead. Fair complexion, high cheekbones and that perfect cupid bow shaped dark pink lips. My heart just had a bungee jump till the stomach and came back to its position when those dark lips gave me crooked smile. Has he had some facial for me or I just forgot how handsome he looked. And why is he wearing goggles at 9 in the night? Why I did not comb my hair, did not clean up the spread kajal, where is my perfume....even though he is far away, I want perfume. Thank God my brain was having so many questions in my mind and was slow enough to generate neural impulses to my hand which was about to wave at Gaurav. Before my brain could give signal to my hand, Gaurav did and indicated me to look at my right side. And there I saw a hug and numerous questions were waiting for me. Universal confusion of choosing one among parents and love.

Part- II Daily challenge....contd

She asked me to open YOU page on Mumbai Mirror and suggested me to read what was written in bold letters “Secrets of having that perfect Kiss” and a half size photo of a cute guy n very cute girl smooching. And below were written 10 so-called rather so –assumed secrets of a perfect kiss. I coolly ignored the page asking my receptionist what to read on that page but I guess this much humiliation was not enough for God (thru receptionist). She said ‘read it mam, its for your own good. You need it.’ I still tried to maintain my mental balance, don’t knw how much I succeeded but I told her that all this is crap and this just corrupts our mind and we should not believe it. It sounded like my Mom telling me the same things about the zee horror show when I was a kid. If only my mom knew that I still remember her words of wisdom, only the situation is different here, she would be so proud of me. But my receptionist would not give up and answers back ‘mam, that’s why your life is so dry and boring. Read it, its actually true and very helpful. It will spice up your life’.

Thanks to corporate life there is constant flow of emails in the inbox and you have a perennial excuse of ‘I need to reply to a mail urgently, I’ll get back to you asap’. I did the same with my receptionist and kept down the phone.
But just like zee horror show music- aaaa….aaa…aaah ahah aaaaah aaaah…keeps haunting for days her words kept haunting my mind. To start with why she thinks my life is dry and boring. Just because I hear her desperate dream stories of having a bf doesn’t mean that my life is also the same or does not have any other mode of entertainment and even if it is the case, atleast she should not have problems with it- I am her only loyal audience.

Next in line of thoughts– is it that obvious that I need to read such articles? What makes her think that I never kissed in life or I am a bad kisser. Is she representing a secret group of boys whom I dated which I am not aware of? What makes her think that such articles would help me, do I look that desperate? Does she think I am a teenager and supposed to tear of that article, take it to the washroom and giggle with her over it?? Does she think at all???
Last one being closest to reality, I believed that and thought about this page. This You page claims to introduce you to your innerself, desires, laws of nature but actually it just tests your patience for tolerating such non sense and introduces to other pervert people who are in quest for their innerself (new limits of pervertness)

With all such thoughts hovering over my mind, whole day I tried hard not to think about HIM. I kept myself busy with all the possible important work I could do right from cleaning my desktop screen to my laptop bag, from getting the Xerox of a document which belonged to another department to going to washroom every hr (without the newspaper cutting).
Finally it was hour of freedom,6.30- official sign out time. I retired myself to the window seat of our AC coach on my way back home. Since I had nothing to do so-called productive work which I do in office, I was left with only the traffic view outside, honking horns and radio music to my rescue. But before I could change the channel the damage was already done. I heard it….Dil ko tumse pyaar hua, pehli baar hua ,tumse pyar hua….Main bhi aashiq yaar hua, pehli baar hua, tumse pyaar hua…..

I could not change the channel, my fingers refused to move. I could not hear the horns, could not see the traffic outside. Was not sure if the bus was even moving. The only thing I could see was memories of that day……

Part-I Daily challenge

To start with again I was late n felt guilty that handsome husband of Pooja had to take an inside turn for me bcoz I cud not reach my pick up point on time, but that’s ok I have bigger tensions in life than to think about how to grab attention of Pooja’s husband early morning at 8, when all 3 of us are enjoying this 2 min ride for different reason, before getting on the battleground to fight for our heavy day in office.
I have regular embarrassments in office, theres nothing new in it. It comes in various forms…physical (considering my figure), intellectual, technical (thanx to BB, tabs n wats app on mobile phones), professional since it’s a workplace. Not to forget each type has to be a public embarassement since I work in a corporate. And there is my regular audience, my colleagues, frnds and their frnds adding each passing day so that my frnds don’t have to take the pains to repeat the jokes cracked on me- they just have to introduce them to me (even my workstation would do for that matter). Next time onwards they can enjoy it firsthand.
But today was a weird day. My receptionist who happens to be in awe of me calls me up when I was in middle of something important. Let me take time to express here what does ‘middle of something important’ means in corporate office. If you are planning your leave not looking at the calendar or your deadlines but studying your weekly canteen menu, if you are checking out new joinees list having photographs, finding out the most complicated excel sheet to keep open on ur PC for the whole day when u r busy in some other important thing, when u r trying to find the direct or inverse proportion of ur neighbour’s salary and job profile- then my dear friends you can proudly say ‘I am in middle of something important’.
So coming back to the point when I was ‘in middle of something important’ my receptionist called and said something which made me recheck my passport – my country of origin & my date of birth to confirm myself about my age.