If work is worship.... then I'm an atheist

No, I didn't want to crib, but I'm so bloody furious right now that its not funny. I mean, what would I not do to kill this man...this man...who's supposed to be my superior..who does absolutely nothing to earn his fat paycheck, while I work myself to death. Okay, so I exaggerated just a little bit. But the fact is that he's an miserable incompetent nincompoop. But that's not what is interesting about him. Watching or observing his work (or the lack of it) is an incredible learning experience. See how he ducks work, dodges any kind of responsibility and totally shrugs off any kind of decision-making that puts him in the line of fire. All this while maintaining this excellent facade of being hopelessly committed to work, peering into the computer screen for all the eight hours of required duty as if his life depended on it.
After six months of employment here, he still didn't know his way around. Displaying amazing alacrity, he will delegate his share of co-ordination to minion mortals like me.
He possess other Godforsaken qualities as well, but they have to be experienced to be believed. Small things, for instance, he'll cry himself hoarse, calling out your name, without paying slightest regard to the fact that you're on phone taking down important details.
Similarily today, he must have called for me about a dozen-and-a-half times, when I was filing a story. He wanted to give me details about a page. Only there weren't any. Stories on that page were still being filed, I was at sea on being summoned over in this fashion. Why? But I knew better than to ask.
While my colleagues and I would be going feverish over the edition, he value-adds zilch to it. No headlines, no creative inputs and absolutely no brainwave. Nothing. If you are seeking any kind of work-related assistance from him, you are barking up the wrong tree, mate!
By the way, did I also mention that he hardly ever moves? I mean physically. After maybe coming into the office and leaving it, he gets up to go nowhere. Not even to take a leak .

PS: Okay, that's enough of name-calling or snitching to the world wide web about my workplace. Don't be surprised if I delete this post in a couple of days, I was only trying to let my steam off, not booking a place in hell which I'll be totally entitled to after God reads this.

Friends forever..and one foe too

So I mended fences with a friend, with whom I had been pissed for sometime, for saying something I didn't quite appreciate. But never mind, its all water under the bridge now. The thing is, I'm not the kind of person who can be miffed with somebody for a long time, unless of course, the person has gone out of his or her way to put me off. There is one such person though, with whom I'm only too happy to be at war.

And IG sent me a very nice Garfield picture, the one line mantra of which is very pragmatic. There is some technical snag so I can't post the pic. I would have liked to.

Other than that, life's as usual. The weather right now is quite nice, not that I can actually see anything, for we work in modified versions of a pigeonhole, but while travelling down to work in the evening, I resisted the temptation of diverting from my destination and asking the autowallah to go to place like India Gate or something. India Gate is to Delhi as Marine Drive is to Mumbai, eventhough I rarely make an appearance in and around the glorious architecture and the lush green grass surrounding it.

What's more, exciting office gossip account has also dried up big time. Or that would have kept me going. Actually the sad part is that all the 'interesting' people (read people who generated maximum amount of gossip) have left the organisation. They were very promising. Their loss is difficult to compensate. I hope I don't get killed for writing this. So long...

Of sizzlers and sizzling stories

Its amazing how things one takes for granted, can turn out to be minehouse of interesting information. Indian Railways, for instance. I met this official from the 'grand old establishment' today and he was full of trivia on the railways during the Raj. Anecdotes on how a British engineer named an engine after a leading European singer he liked to how we should thank a Mr Sen for the initiation of loos in the trains. The letter that Mr Sen sent to the Indian Railways, requesting for loos on board can actually be seen and read at the Rail Museum in Delhi. Very fascinating. And as he went on, I, the hack that I am by profession, was rubbing my hands in glee, thinking that each of this could make an excellent story :) Actually, the difference between print and television media is this: nothing can beat the thrill of seeing your name before a story on the newsprint.

Coming to Mumbai monsoon, a friend spend 23 hrs trying to get to a place that was actually only 2 hrs away. Its only when one of your kith and kin is involved, do you realise the magnitude of the crisis. She hadn't spoken to her family in Delhi in two days, God knows if she had had anything to eat or anything. But going by the newspaper reports, that too seems very far-fetched. Speaking of rains, Delhi could sure do with some.

Okay, a candid confession. I've been dreaming, fanticising actually, of sizzlers they serve at a nice little family-run restaurant in Khan Market. I mean, there are sizzlers and there are sizzlers, but Chonas' sizzler wins hands-down. Oh...now I'll spend the rest of my office time thinking about it. How is it ever going to help me work better?

Birthday wishes!

I found this picture very cute, have a thing for penguins...So AS, here's wishing you a very Happy Birthday and a lifetime of joy and good luck and God Bless :) Have a wonderful birthday !!!

Love means never having to say sorry...

But that's exactly what he did. He apologised for not being alert enough to see what or how I was feeling. And that hurt. A lot. I am okay with just about everything, but not when he says 'I'm sorry'. It also hurt because it wasn't his fault at all. Me, being the perennially panicky person, blowed a small thing out of proportion, and in a fit of rage, wrote a blog criticising him left, right and centre. I should have known better. He read it, it caused him pain to learn that I felt so neglected. I didn't. I've always been acting like this bratty attention-loving person, while he keeps giving it to me unconditionally. What I went through once I realised he had read it, I'd not forget. But I knew there was no way I could even see this blog again. Let alone write one. Because I felt terrible for writing what I did, for not having a check on my temper. So I deleted all my posts.

However, in the explanations and counter-explanations that ensued, I quoted this line from The Love Story to tell him that no matter what, he never should feel that he's neglecting me because that isn't true at all . Because even if he did, he never has to apologise. Because I'm sure there would be a good enought reason for him doing that. Also, I'm so hopelessly in love with him that it wouldn't matter. I might get as angry but I'd come back to him because I love him and there's othet place I'd rather be. Because without him, I've nowhere else to go.

And the only reason I'm writing again is because he extracted a promise out of me to do so. I'd do anything for him. And mushy as it may sound, I'm happy to have written this because what happened on Sunday left a profound effect on me.