Up In The Air

This is probably the longest post on this blog so far. For some reason, I wanted it to be a single post. I have stopped giving excuses for my lack of blogging since the lone 2 readers have also stopped asking me for them anyway. I’ve decided to write about the recent changes that have occurred in my life descriptively here. In the form of 4 life-changing flights that I’ve taken of late. For the heck of it. If you’re too bored to read the whole thing, pick the airport codes that interest you the most.

Also, schmaltz alert.

1. PNE-BLR

This happened on June 14^th, 2011. I got a call from my office peeps over at Bangalore at about 1100 Hrs that I need to pack my entire life that I had set up in Pune in the last one year and catch the 1700 Hrs flight to Bangalore. And I did, without forgetting to take even the smallest of my things. Staying organized paid off really well. It was only after I got into the flight that I had the time to think about what kind of an emergency it could possibly have been for a mechanical engineer who has somehow ended up writing and correcting code with OCD for a living to be summoned like that. And I couldn’t come up with a single situation since I don’t even specialize in ninja-coding! I have surprised the hell out of my surgeon friends with this incident. I wasn’t one to complain as such because I did eventually want to come back to Bangalore and hence just decided to take the high road and embrace this change with warmth.

So, I started reporting to work at one of the offices in Whitefield that this Hire-Anyone-and-Everyone Inc. company that I work for has. As I was struggling to find a place to stay in that part of Karnataka where even brokers do not entertain you if you cannot speak Telugu, something miraculous happened. I got an interview call from a company that makes mining equipment among many other things and has a design centre in Bangalore.

This was completely unexpected as when I had tried pushing my resume a couple of months before that into the mechanical engineering field, I had faced some pretty disheartening replies. After a couple of rounds of interview, I made it. I got the job. The post – ‘Design Engineer’. Goosebumps.

2. TCS-SVK

OK. I know they aren't real airports. But, dance with me. No one's watching.

To be able to get back to being a Mechie or Lady MechBeth if you will, was a dream come true when I had seen no such possibilities during my 1 Year 8 Months stint at coding. This was one of the most important turn of events of my life for which I still thank my stars every day. Of course, there are certain details I’m ignoring here. To start with, my resume got pushed into this company because of a fact that made me throw all the feminism I’ve stood for in life far out of the window. They were looking for ‘Women Mechanical Engineers’. Then, the interviews were hardly anything like what my best attempts at doing anything would be. Instead of being shown the door, I was asked what CTC I expected because apparently I showed good learning capabilities without “having ‘head-weight’.”

I’m not complaining. I cannot. I should not.

The transition from being a quick-fix programmer to blinking on asked why I’ve not “given H7/p6 tolerance on the bearing and bush drawings”, this has been one life-changing experience. I am extremely blessed to have a manager/mentor like the one I have currently (whom I shall henceforth refer to as ‘The Boss’). I would have been an under-confident wreck had it not been for him and I know that for a fact. This industry can be quite cruel to freshers, in that, women freshers.

I believe with all my heart that I couldn’t have been starting my career as a mechanical engineer at a better place than this. When personal life was (still is) going through its worst possible phase lasting longer than anything else I’ve faced, my career was at its all-time high promising newer heights. Life is funny like that sometimes. The stress that can shatter me is being reduced drastically by the happiness I get from my job.

3. BLR-BNE

With just 2.5 months into my new job, I was asked if I had any personal commitments that would stop me from a brief stint at my company’s manufacturing unit at Brisbane. In 15 days from then, I had the maiden visa stamped on my passport.

On Dec 31^st, 2011, I, along with The Boss, set sail aboard a Singapore Airlines flight to Brisbane, QLD, Australia. The captain wished us all a Happy New Year before we took off from Singapore at 1210 Hrs on Jan 1^st, 2012. Honestly, this whole "New Year" thing has never been my thing. But, for the first time, maybe because I’ve been trying to seek help from everything around me to make me realize how lucky I am to be leading the life that I do apart from using anti-depressants, I was delighted at the idea of beginning a new calendar year in a whole new country.

Eating mangoes in the month of January gave me a kick like nothing else has till date.

The experience of Australia for someone like me who is fascinated pretty easily, has been nothing short of enchanting. I love each and every moment that I spend here.

At work, it’s quite amazing to be on a floor which accommodates the Engineering Department that consists of 1 Canadian, 1 Irish, 1 British, 1 Argentinean, 1 Polish, 1 Swiss, 1 German, 1 Dutch, 1 New Zealander, 2 Chinese, 2 Sri Lankan, 4 Australian and 6 Indian nationalities. One Chilean is expected to arrive on Monday.

On a completely random note, I would like to add that the company that I work for is Swedish and that I love Abba.

We drove to Sunshine Coast the day after we landed and Gold Coast on the first weekend. Recently, The Boss and I walked around Brisbane city the whole day aimlessly and loved it. From trying to cook a decent meal to watching Seinfeld episodes to shining at Dining Table Tennis (DTT) to humming the same song for days together by turns, the stay has been a pleasure.

4. BNE-MEL

The moment I was asked to work from Brisbane between Jan 1^st and Mar 29^th, 2012, I knew I had to do this. I couldn’t believe the timing. 6 months of summer in 2012 would be compensated by this for life.

Australian. Frickin. Open.

One of the first things I did after landing in Brisbane was to find out if it would be OK for me to leave a tad early on a Friday to catch a flight to Melbourne to watch one of the Men’s Semi Finals. And then, I reconnected with some folks I knew in Melbourne and found an old basketball friend who loves tennis as much as I do, to watch the match with. And then, the tickets were booked.

I fell in love with the city almost instantly. I can never forget the scent in the air all over Melbourne. A dash of Pine with Eucalyptus and other wild wintery flowers whose existence I know only by their fragrances.

Standing outside Rod Laver Arena, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I watched the Andy Murray vs Novak Djokovic semi-final match on 27^th Jan, 2012. The experience - unparalleled. Spiritual, for the most part. It was simply stunning tennis from both players that day. A five-setter with hardly any unforced errors and spectacular rallies. Worth. Every. Penny. And more.

The next day, an old school classmate and her friends from Melbourne took me around the city. They were possibly the nicest hosts I could have asked for. In fact, their enthusiasm and patience still makes me rethink my ways of dealing with people I hardly know! This trip to Melbourne is going to stay fresh in my head for years to come. Throughout the trip, there was nowhere else I wanted to be and isn’t that all we hope for at all times?

On Sunday, the 19^th of Feb, 2012, The Boss and I are going to watch the India vs Australia ODI at The Gabba. I’m hoping for 3 things. Sachin’s 100^th century. India’s victory. Most importantly, no rain playing the party-pooper.

Hopefully, more non-maudlin posts to follow from this spa treatment of a country in the coming days.

Until then, G'day Mate!

Walk of Life

This is a story of how I learnt to walk; of how I decided to pick up that chubby little foot and strut forward like a boss as just an 8 month old baby; of one of the most important days in a child's life that would predict if the child would be a Johnnie (couldn't stop myself) or not. My being the first born made it all the more special for my parents too. But, they refrain from narrating this story too often. In fact, I have heard it just once from their mouths. Since then, they have denied its truth for safety reasons. They are pretty sure there is a law against parents treating their children like their canine brethren.

It was a delightful morning in Belgaum. My mum had a slice of bread in her hand. She was moving away from me. I decided to stand up and chase the damn slice, period.

Xylophone

This was a conversation between my younger sister and yours truly over cellphones. The signal strength in my room tends to vary a lot.

Pramati Kalwad (P): Wait wait! I can't understand what you're saying! You sound like a Xylophone! Xylophone, Xylophone, Xylophone!

(Me: Can you hear me now?
P: Xylophone.) X 7

Me: Now?
P: Yes.
Me: You know, I think I had a Xylophone when I was a kid; before you were born. Or wait. Maybe that was a dream. I'm not quite sure.
P: Hey yaaaaaaaa! I think even I remember that!
Me: No?
P: Or wait. No, that was in Tom & Jerry.

A letter

Dear every HR Personnel at my workplace,

I do not need the email every Monday morning which reads – “Have a happy week ahead….!!!!!” in colours that were seen only on Nandu (sab ka Bandhu)’s underwear in Raja Babu. I will have a much better one with my eyesight not threatened with your blue-background-red-font, thank you.

Keep your employee motivation lessons on the back burner, please? In fact, you know what? Even those “Days” that you guys organize? Red/Blue/Green/Yellow Day, Dress-as-your-favorite-Freedom-Fighter Day (For yes, they would be smiling down upon you so proudly that you are laughing at a Gandhi’s bald wig), Childrens’ Day (which btw, made many a female colleague dress in school-girl uniforms that I can only assume they hired from Budhwar Peth) or any other waste-time-and-encourage-mind-numbing-stupidity Day must have a priority of a 4 digit number considering you ARE the most responsible employee of the lot. Leader among employees, of employees, by default. I am sure they told you that in your BS(chool) sessions.

I also do not need your help in bringing about unity in my team by getting sloshed at a resort. Especially not your inebriated contribution. No, thank you.

I do not want gory, tasteless images and quotes on the notice board about Tailgating or Going Green from you. Because I believe having so many “………..” and “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” in a row itself is the biggest sin that, I can assure you, a man is capable of doing in his lifetime that He shall not think twice before punishing.

A few quick asides here to tell you that, a room with water closets is a restroom. A room with bunker beds where one might want to “take rest” is not. Would it kill you to open a dictionary before you make the sign boards?

When you write “Exit Only. Please Enter Canteen from Gymnasium side” on the wall IN FRONT OF THE CANTEEN EXIT DOOR, I hope you do realize that it makes no sense, serves no purpose and only displays material worthy to be put in chain emails containing hilarious sign-boards from China. Which are again, and I’m only guessing here, started by you guys.

When you make announcements over the mic about a certain Dr.X being available in the doctors room, please make sure you tell us whether it’s a General Physician, Gynecologist, Employee Counseller, vet or a PhD. I do not want anyone else telling me that my menstrual cramps are because of a deeply hidden complex with my imaginary dog.

Coming back to my main point, what I do think that you should concentrate on, is that little thing we all get paid for, probably a minuscule amount as compared to you; more deserving employees, that little piece called work. Sure, we while away time sometimes by playing a tad longer game of Table Tennis in the parking lot or by watching Pixar Shorts on a colleague’s high end phone with a screen as big as the TV in most homes, etc. But, that is only because we are either done with the deliverables for the day or are waiting for an extremely complex set of queries to get executed and eventually execute the database server up in flames. But, tell me, when will you allocate the resources loitering around dry-humping the coffee vending machines while I can hear about 1,347 Project Leaders crying for but just one of them? Employees, I mean. When will you stop lying to us about your whereabouts so you can discuss cosmetics and emulsifying paint (for all I know!) in the canteen and resolve my salary issues?

I cannot think of any other work that you people do. At least, at this point. I would never have complained if I had only not heard every other employee of this organization crib about workflow pending with you.

It’s simple, really. Prioritize.

Yours truly,

A disturbed employee of your organization whose joining letter (post training) you have not yet processed or even collected for that matter.

DISCLAIMER: Do you see any names taken? No? Then? That's all, I say.

Pune-28

Now, promise me son, not to do the things I've done.

Walk away from trouble if you can.

It won't mean you're weak if you turn the other cheek.

I hope you're old enough to understand.

Son, you don't have to fight to be a man.

I typed it only because that Kenny Rogers song 'Coward of the County' has been playing in my head the whole day. I finally downloaded it. It's something my dad had put in my head as usual when I was a kid.

It has been a really long time since I blogged (instant reviews have no value, just like instant coffee has no taste) And I attribute this purely to my staying away from home. Yes. You see, because, when some even remotely bloggable incident occurs these days like absent-mindedly carrying a full length wet towel to office (No! It wasn't May 25th!) after forgetting to hang it on the clothline before leaving from home and such, I am the first one to pick up the phone and rant about it meticulously to my near and dear ones like nobody's business. But still, today, I have decided to write something. Anything.

It's been a year since I started working and 9 months since I have been living in the severely efficient-mass-transport-school-of-thought-challenged city of Pune. Well, I live in a pristine, wallpaper material township that does not count as Pune, one may argue. But it's still just 10 mins from Camp and Koregaon Park and 20 mins from Swargate (all durations by local autorickshaw standards), yeah? So, there. But, it's a fact that I cannot possibly think of staying anywhere else in this city. God forbid that I am put on a project that is primarily worked on in some other branch of my office in other Godforsaken areas of this city and I have to move out of here. Flexibility, My Rearness! I stay 1000 Kms away from family, friends and any non-Hinglish speaking, Arrested Development understanding, Dabangg hating, good-food-that-does-not-involve-Pav appreciating human beings as it is, thank you.

Alright, that was a little too dramatic, even for me. Pune has been fine to me. I have somwhow ended up spending weekends only by either sleeping through them at home or in a movie hall or shopping till I drop. Not kidding. This one time, I came back home from a shopathon and fell thump on the bed only to wake up with a severe fatigue related fever. Despite being surrounded by innumerable forts that can to be trekked to, I have managed just one so far. Sinhgadh. The difficulty level of the trek was 'super-easy'. For a 4 year old. It was a beautiful place, nevertheless. And hogging on steaming hot piTla-bhakri, bhareet and Thecha atop the fort-hill as we were covered by a thick blanket of clouds and gorging on vada-pavs and sipping piping hot tea after hours of drenchment maximus in Khadakwasla waters was divine.

Apart from these and a few other trips to the other end of the city to visit relatives, attending one Bharatnatyam concert, missing the superlative Sawai Gandharva Festival, many more mundane happenings sum up to mean that I have officially under-utilized Pune, to say the least. 1500PNAMYS/1345MYSPNA Airavata (KSRTC Volvo; three headed carrier elephant of Lord Indra) on NH4 has turned into my second home. I now know all the 3 sets of drivers/conductors, which bus has the plug point right below seat no. 12 and on which day of the week it will turn up, that that plug point (there's no such thing as even a drawing of a switch near it) will shock the living daylights out of you even when the bus isn't keyed in, exactly which loo at Ananda Bhavan (Hanchanal) has all the 3 essential amenities of running water tap, light and a door latch that are fully functioning, etc. I have ended up donating copiuos amounts in cash to VRL (for many a delightful Hubli visit) and more importantly KSRTC of course. So much that they should name a bus after me. Oh wait.

Living on your own teaches you many things. Firstly, that you do not soak clothes in detergent water unless you are absolutely sure that the maid is going to turn up. Secondly, the way I have been brought up is the best possible way. It is only unfortunate when everyone thinks the same about their upbringing. I have dusted the old cookery books in my head, put on the apron of healthy food, donned the anti-Maggi hat (very recent development, this) and I am sincerely trying to put my best culinary skills to use atleast to survive complete starvation that would otherwise loom over my hungry soul. It's either cook your own food and eat or order artery linings whilst your wallet loses weight faster than you can read this sentence.

I have successfully bought the following in less than an hour due to extreme time constraints that I cannot explain at the moment. A standard issue but slightly uselessly radical six-legged cot, an ergonomic nightmare of a mattress as soft as cotton candy (a.k.a Bombay MiThai back home for some reason), 6' 6" cupboard (with a full length mirror) of 0.00037 picometre gauge steel that I will have to sell off at, what I realized late, very late, less than quarter of their original prices. Hopefully my sales spiel will improve along with other mind-numbing corporate vocabulary that I am exposed to. Oh but my simple yet elegant comforter that protected me from the merciless Pune winters is my best buy till date. Better and surprisingly more satisfying than the iPod Touch I bought for my sister.

As always, I have now entered a state of sleepiness beyond imagination. More on the wonderful Ratnagiri mangoes that I am yet again looking forward to, the endangered species of PMPML buses with all their 1 inch thick muck and fish market fragrance and all and of course my gruelling direct and indirect trysts with the people whom I can safely vouch for as the 'sole reason why the world is so bloody f!@#$d up' a.k.a Human Resources Personnel later.

As for the weekend, I intend to shop again for a cousin's engagement ceremony due next week (yet again to be held in Mysore!) and possibly go gliding at here which is literally just a stone's throw away from my house. For a seasoned stone thrower, of course.

Development Arrested

Arrested Development is a show that is brilliant on so many levels that I can't explain. My natural figure of speech tends to be the hyperbole. But, the truth about AD is that it is indeed one of the most clever, satirical, crazy and thence phenomenal shows that I've watched. With its radical approach towards a sitcom with a narrator at the backdrop to the insanity of the totally unrelatable characters, AD would've been completely fresh in 2003 and how! The characters,nevertheless, are etched perfectly by both consistent writing and simply delightful actors. Despite the perpetual, bizarre, unfolding of the story revealing new nuances of each character, at no point does it seem like the writers are trying too hard.

Right. Now, I'm just lost again recollecting people and scenes and laughing.
*You can completely ignore the following paragraph*

There's the magician G.O.B who will make you hum 'Final Countdown' at times you never thought you would. The completely hilarious and pitiful whackjob called Tobias. There's also the adorable maniac Buster. Maeby, the rebellious and awfully dumb teenager. Lindsay, the spoilt shopaholic spiteful woman. George Sr., Lucille, Bob Loblaw (Sheer brilliance), George Michael... aah! The list of amazing people is endless.
The only sane and slightly real guy in the show is Michael Bluth which is played by the ever-charming Jason Bateman. He is SO cute that I don't mind coming across as a high school girl with no vocabulary in this very sentence.

The slapstick, the PJs, the spoonerisms and other play of words and even the subtle, ironic and esoteric humour at times, together are all part of a genre of comedy that it creates for itself which is strikingly unique although comprising of the common ingredients with a dash of ingenious. The pace of the underlying story is gripping and the changes that take place, most of the times in less than 30 seconds, are almost always unpredictable and therefore, fun.

It's a pity and a shame that a show like this one had to be canceled after mere 3 seasons of awesomeness due to lack of funds. Watch the show and you may just sob at the irony. But, the supposed cult following and the IMDB rating of 9.7 is what brings peace to my heart in this world where people 'Like' "How I met YOU'RE Mother" and "Scrubzzzz...."

The girl overheard

The accordion pleats of the dance attire.
The contrived rear view mirror in the rickshaw.
The engraved foot in the flip-flops.
The indecisive raindrop on the grill.
The unwary curtains on duty.
The confused wire of the earphones.
The conforming flame on the stove.
The tolerant pillar in everyone's way.
The reckless thread at the end of the fabric.
The obedient door knob.
The furious ingredients in the hot vessel.
The relieved cloud of deodorant.
The breathless oar.
The exhausted jaw of the smiley.
The karmic rants of the drums.
The free sand in the confined hourglass.
The struggle of the meek hairclip.
The oblivious yet attentive pair of scissors.
The tranquil surrender of the oil in the lamp.
The solitary dot on the forehead.
The urgency of the Christmas lights.
The restless keys on the phone.
The unconvinced photo of the deity.
The rigid grid on the floor.
The sentimental footpedal on the bicycle.
The undisclosed secrets of the eyeliner.
The attention seeking signboard.
The unity of rods of steel.
The ostentatious mirror.
The cunning paper clip.
The thirsty towel.
The little girl heard them all.
And painted their message to the world.