It’s a cold night at
I think I have this extremely sad habit of falling in love with cities. I dislike
Just a few more hour before another year comes to an end. This year too the 31st will be just like any other 31st. At office till evening and then a nice cosy bed and a good book or maybe very close friends. But as I look back, I see how different the situations in reality are. Last December, as a trainee I was fighting for survival. Fighting to pick up the broken pieces of my ego and build a collage out of them. I was worried about what the New Year would bring.
It’s not that I know what 2009 will bring for me. But I feel more confident about facing it. I don’t know if I have got any better at what I do. Maybe the academic in me is swooning under corporate delivery pressure and the professional in me is loving the adrenalin rush of it all. However, what I do know is that I have become less of an intellectual snob. In 2007, fresh out of college, I considered myself one of the best in terms of laddering techniques. I stand humbled by Ms. Pammi of Pant Nagar, Rinadi of Bagha Jatin, Urvashi Ben of Ahmedabad and Santhi Amma of Mylapore. When I know what they actually want, I might get a little snobbish again. But that day is far far away.
My wardrobe slowly is seeing a shift. Pathetically boring shirts and T shirts are coming in. My Spiderman T shirts are on their way out. Women I meet actually pass sniggering comments on them. If only they knew, how tough it is to find a Floyd T shirt, a customized Spiderman T shirt or even a Calvin one. The campus clothes also are on the back foot. I really wish I had R again to help me choose clothes just like she did before Placements. But hers being one of the many weddings I missed this year, I am too afraid to ask her. The number of my unmarried friends is dwindling drastically. It may soon be the case that V and I remain the sole bachelors amongst all the people I know.
As I step into 2009, I realize once again that I love my work. Yes I sell Oil, soaps, soups to earn some money (and blow them up by being a regular customer of legally printed copies of books and a regular at movie theatres) but as long as I feel nice I really don’t care. The problem happens when I try to explain to people what I do for a living. My grand mom got extremely suspicious when she heard that my company actually pays for my flight tickets so that I can go and speak to middle aged Indian homemakers. I am sure she still doesn’t believe me. After all she never liked the census guys getting into her kitchen and taking a tally of the number of LPG cylinders she had.
So 2008 is almost up. And surprisingly the flight is just a little delayed. The fog’s kind on me. In the misty mornings of
But then Life goes on. And I must find a song for the New Year.