Obituary

Dear Mom, Dad, Aparna, Sirisha, Bhargav et all (In all the probability almost everyone I know);

You remember the big brown dangling pair of ear rings I used to wear? Appa, the one you used to hate and refuse to come out me if I wore them? Amma, the one you would beg me to take off and wear a more appropriate one just to maintain domestic peace? Bhargav, the one you used to call tribal wear? The one Pavan used to describe as made from ball bearings and other metal scrap stolen from a garage? And the one that Aparna used to smile off – calling them as my “those” earrings.

For that matter they were always my “those” earrings, or at least that is how everybody who has seen me in them has called them. Few (Reality Check: more like a multitude of people) have been repulsed by the sight of those long ear rings, preferring instead that I wear something more traditional and refined (!). Most have begged me to take off the hideous thing. And there have been a couple of people who have absolutely loved them. There have also been very few like good ol’ Sirisha who never really voiced out anything (knowing her, I am sure she hated them); instead just asking me to do what I wanted to do – wear ‘em and not listen to all that jazz, err noise.

I guess I am just stalling. Those big beautiful brown earrings have died on me, in a freak accident. And so the earrings that loyally served me for about five years are no more.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.

P.S.: And before you heave a sigh of relief and start gloating, I have already found the perfect replacement.

When I was a kid, I always fantasized of how things would work out. I visualized my future as a very ethereal, poetic dream. I would just flit in and out of things and Life did have an airy feel to it. Cut to reality. Everyday life is just a struggle against sheer boredom.

She may be the face I can't forget
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song the summer sings
May be the chill the autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of the day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dream
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I remember till the day I die

She may be the reason I survive
The way and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be

The meaning of my life is
She

Sony Max, 8:00 p.m.

That is where I am gonna be tonight.

Update
It was'nt the same.

A colleague and a fellow “Joined Company on XXX” flew back from Bulgaria yesterday and dropped into office post lunch. I am usually not very social after lunch, preferring to slump away in a half asleep half awake state until it’s time for my afternoon tea. And while I was enjoying my afternoon siesta as much as I could on my office chair, which by the way is no recliner; this Laddie walks up to me and says a good natured Hi. So far so good. Except for, one – I didn’t exactly want to talk to anybody then and two – I didn’t exactly want to talk to him.
You see, I am on what is called in IT parlance ‘the bench’. The bench is probably the best place to be in when you want to leave office early for shopping, when you don’t feel like going to office because you just feel like sleeping off last night’s hangover or when you want to take extended tea/lunch breaks as my dear friend Apar found out. However it is also the place where you don’t want to be in when you are in one of those pensive moods, evaluating your career and where you go on from here. And as a bencher, your friends are fellow benchers and you try to stay away from the non-benchers. There would be good natured queries on the bench status and condolences on not being on any project. And there are only a finite number of times that you can laugh it away and say it’s nice not being overworked for a change. Or joke about paid vacations. Or make the other person feel bad about not being on bench.
And as someone who has spent the last two months warming the bench, I dint quite feel up to the task. And while I quickly went about numerous excuses in my mind as to how I could cut the conversation short and make a quick exit, Laddie asks me why I am not my usual cheery self. Numerous attempts to deny so turned futile. I heard someone saying “Maybe that’s the effect you have on me”. Err, that was ME! Needless to say, Laddie made a show of wanting to talk to somebody in the next cubicle and made a quick exit. He never even as much glanced in my direction for the rest of the day, or at least till I called it a day.
And you know what? I didn’t feel bad about it. Sorry for him though. Okay just a li'l bit, but jus' a li'l. Maybe I'll talk to him tomorrow. :)

PS: I am now officially looking for a job. Looking for a project management/ corporate finance/general management role in an IT company – it’s the only business I have been formally trained in. Any inputs/suggestions/leads will be appreciated.

I do not recognise myself anymore. I am no longer the person I thought I was. And I am not quite the person that I thought I did grow up to be.
It is not quite that I don't like the person I have turned out to be. What I need to figure out is if this is the person I want to be.
To be or not to be. :)

An eye on the television, nay both eyes glued to the television now that my mother is no longer around to coax me into getting back to studying. I am still the errant teenager in more ways than one. A certificate examination next Saturday which is quite the "hard nut to crack", a Bengali roommate who can't understand Tamil, an hour past twelve by when I had decided to give up on my attempt to get back to books and all set to nod off with the fond hope that my books may have a greater appeal to me tomorrow (by now, its already tomorrow) morning 5 a.m. than now (fat chance that) and Alaipayuthe aired on K TV.

It was'nt a very difficult decision to make. Fate had decided so when my roomie not only switched on the channel but also started watching it. Now, how could I possibly try to go against what was already destined to be.

The movie brought back a zillion memories. Of hearing the music track for the first time in Revathi's house, of contemplating Shalini's character in the movie going by the lyrics (Timuru ku arasan and so on), of Shubha crooning the 'Netru Mun Iravil' piece in a very male-ish (read her own) voice, of watching the movie at Udhayam and of course, having this huge crush on Madhavan. The 90s movies never stop affecting me - maybe it has also got to do with my age at that time. I dont think a movie like KKHH would keep me engrossed today, but I can watch the original KKHH any day and every day. True, not a great movie but dont you ever tell me that. I loved the KKHH reference in Dostana too. The 90s music too - I think AR Rahman was better back then than now. Try telling me otherwise and you are up against a rock solid wall.

Maybe at that age (not that I am pretty old now, just a decade back :) ), things affected us more than they can probably do now. Maybe thats the reason we feel the way we feel about our first loves too, we never seem to be able to shrug off that feeling, no matter how lucky we get later on. Nothing seems to measure up. :) And before a few smart alecks, some of whom hopefully still keep getting back to my blog in the fond hope that I may have gotten over my writer's block yet start asking me about this - I said first loves which can mean just about anything. Yeah, that too. :)