Her

The phone beeped loudly. She side glanced to see the text message that popped on the screen.

"I am dying to see you!"

She almost typed "me too" but deleted it and sent a simple ":)" instead. She decided to give this another try. One last try, just like the last time.

They looked at each other and greeted like they had just met. She smiled widely. Her smile disarmed him, it always managed to. He stood there unable to describe his vulnerability to himself. Was it her beauty, the radiance of her eyes or just her magical persona. He surrendered to the power of this stunning woman and the effect she had on him. They embraced each other. An embrace that was anything but platonic and lasted longer than she had expected. The sparks were beginning to fly.

They picked it up from where they had left it. Becoming young again, exchanging sweet nothings, occasional teasing, her boisterous laughter echoing through the woods.

Making her laugh never required too much effort.

Her laughter could be a poetry in itself, he thought. It was one of the first things he had noticed and fallen for. She laughed genuinely and wholeheartedly, no pretentiousness about it. Her energy was infectious. In one hour of her company, he forgot his realities and the burden of multiple roles he played in his life.

To be someone he used to be a decade ago liberated him. They were interrupted when his phone rang. "Shhh that's her" he signaled to her.

"Hi hun! In a meeting. Let me call you in an hour, okay?" he said calmly and hung up.

They met every single day, for several months. "Just one last time. Never again" she said to herself, slightly inebriated but without resisting his moves.

PS: Title is stolen but story is original :P

thoughts inside a box

He stood near the elevator for a few minutes debating in his head before finally deciding to enter. To say that he hated elevators would be an understatement. 

He pressed the button, took a deep breath and prayed silently. He hummed his favourite song and before he could realise, it was packed with all kinds of people.

A group of mean looking businessmen, a couple of old american women, a podgy middle aged man struggling to fit in with his protruding belly and a french bearded young gun, who seemed like he had decoded all of life's mysteries. It was a miracle how the elevator was still moving.

From just a pang of anxiety it went on to become a full blown panic attack. He began to sweat profusely. Getting into the elevator seemed like the worst decision he made today. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity, minutes seemed like hours. After the 12th floor, his mind stopped functioning normally. His train of thought slowly wandered into that moment of a time long gone. A drop of sweat slowly trickled from his forehead. He glanced at the nonchalant american ladies who looked unbelievably calm and collected. "How can they stay so calm?!" he muttered under his breath.

In his head this was like a glass box, unbreakable and coming threateningly close to his body. He tried to divert his mind trying to think of cheerful images. Long stretches of paddy fields, bright yellow tulips that he loved as a child. Nothing seemed to work and he went back to waiting for what seemed to have lasted several years.

The doors opened slowly and a typical Mediterranean female voice declared, "32nd floor". He leapt out of the elevator like it was on fire.

Claustrophobia, because the only time a person should be in a box is when he is no more.

That time travel machine called mind..

“It’s only fair for wines to get better with age”, he said gazing into her big brown eyes. She broke into a sheepish laughter. “I am warning you against using that line on anyone else” “But it worked and you look stunning” he said, this time more in awe than trying to rekindle old feelings. She smiled gracefully trying to hide the flutter in her heart. The same flutter she felt more than a decade ago.

“Wait, am I seeing you after 7 years?”, she asked counting years in her mind. “If we would’ve met for the first time now, I would have broken all barriers of formality”, he said with a smirk. “Lord! Will you stop flirting already?” she said feeling genuinely floored and guilty of feeling that emotion. A feeling she attributed to being the teenagers’ territory.

 They took a long walk through the park, rekindling bits and pieces of the past, talking about everything under the sun just like how they did back then. A conversation without the fear of judgment accompanied by the joy of finding solace in each other’s company and a reassuring feeling that made her feel like a bubbling younger self in her early 20s.

Thing didn’t seem to have changed much, the humour was same, the telepathy was same, just a new name attached to the maiden one. She laughed with all her heart, till tears flowed out of her eyes. She laughed like that after many years. The feeling was surreal, overpowering, liberating and calming at the same time. “You haven’t looked at your watch yet so I am assuming you will up for some hot jalebis and samosa?”, a rather rhetorical question, he hardly allowed her the time to process a negative response. She helplessly nodded. Of late, she had taught herself to do little things that made her happy.

“It was great meeting you. Let’s do this again. And I want some good coffee next time, won’t let you go with samosa and jalebi”, she said shaking hands and controlling her urge to give him the warmest hug she could. “You know the answer cannot be a no. Been a long time since a gorgeous woman asked me out for coffee”, he finished. She was stunned at his timing and how he had his way with his practiced skills of flattery. And through the flirtatious outside, she was reminded of that man with high intellect, strong principles and genuine care for people around him. People like him led her into believing why some phrases like “head over heels in love” came into existence.

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She walked in the rain, not minding returning home drenched from head to toe. The fabulous time had come to an end, it was time to slip into the routine mode.

 “Mamma! You are drenched. Were you trying to play in the rain?”, declared the little one greeting her on the door. “(laughs) Move beta, Mamma will catch cold and if she starts sneezing who will finish telling you last night’s bedtime story?” she said, struggling her way inside her sparkling clean house with water dripping from her jeans.

“Good Lord! Where were you? This rain is insane!”, he declared

They drank their tea in silence, listening to the rain drops crashing on the window panes. “Just the perfect amount of ginger for today’s weather” he said, putting the cup on the table. He sure was a man of few words.

From the Top of the World

A prolonged exposure to early morning sun forced him to leave his bed earlier than usual. The glass windows with a sea view definitely helped. It was a breathtaking sight and would have been even spectacular had this been a non-business trip, he thought to himself, pushing the blanket aside and feeling uneasy from the previous night’s sleep that was anything but sound.

He was addicted to his morning cup of espresso, a concoction that had to constantly pass his perfection test with the right proportion of sugar, milk and coffee. A lot of times he ditched the espresso in Hotels because “it just wasn’t right”. His need for perfection extended beyond his professional realm. It made his wife’s life miserable in the early years of their marriage, till she got the balance right, or so she thought.

He gave her an assuring smile while sipping the coffee; it was his way of expressing gratitude for all that the woman did for him. From seeing them on the edge of bankruptcy to managing the inflating egos of his teenage boys and for sticking to a partner as busy as him like a rock sized chewing gum under a wooden bench.

“I remember you loving that bag I got the last time. Ofcourse, it was Roberto Cavali, so what’s on your wish list from France this time?” he asked her, still staring at the waves crashing against the perfectly white sand. “This time just a quiet lunch with your wife. Is that too much to ask for?” she said. Before he could frame a comeback his noisy Blackberry came in the way, like always. Several times his wife thought an extramarital affair would have been easier to deal with.
_________________________________________________________

“Can I try a little bit of Folk fusion this time round, what do you think?” He asked totally hoping a negative response. “It should be for the masses yet retain the sophistication that our label is known for. I want Vrisha Kapoor to gyrate like never before. You get the picture right? I think you are giving me a sure shot hit number this time, I trust you on that!” he quipped and zoomed away in his pearl white BMW leaving him baffled. He has been composing for 20 years now but requests like these still left him clueless, frustrated and constantly tested his anger management skills. He couldn’t stop himself from remembering the director’s mother and sister for half a minute and began humming a classical number to find temporary solace.

After two neat gulps of scotch and 2 sleepless nights he tried to close his eyes without dozing off while listening to the recording of their first raw mixing session along with his Lyricist best friend. They heard the first few minutes staring at each other, trying to converse with their eyes. “What the fuck do you expect? I can’t make a song like those Qawali type guys with no substance. Dance number can also be dignified, right?” he said breaking the silence. The lyricist poured himself a drink and responded with a deep sigh. “You know him. He will say this is not what the public wants!” he answered mimicking the director’s almost masculine voice. There was an instant burst of laughter that echoed in the huge hall. “Lets take a long walk and hum something. Remember, there were times you churned out hits in your sleep?” he said trying to lift the composer’s spirit (pun intended). He chuckled and thanked god for making him stick to a lyricist of his calibre.

Fresher resume - Decoded

I would like to believe the word glorification came into existence only after the first CV was made by humankind. And Ive always wondered why certain things HAVE to be part of a CV almost like they are attached in the head. This post is dedicated to all recruiters who have headed straight to their bars after having the misfortune of going through some classic CVs. A lot us get stuck at the objective. I would have loved to end it with just, "recruit me, PWEAAASE?" but a lot of play of words is required to make it sound right.

Usually, Objective = (insert a diplomatic tel maalish statement in praise of your organization along with a humble promise of launching a few GSLVs upon recruitment)

CONTACT INFORMATION:

In south India, while reading the resume, it'll take you 10 minutes to just cross this part. There will be the name of the village, the mummified 500 A.D Ancestor's middle name, distant relative's wife's brother name along with the names of a few gods.. I think you get the picture.

Name: "Mallapuram Vignahara Venkata Srinatha Ganesha Sanjeev Rao" (You can call me Sanj is what they'll say on the client call)

Gender, Caste (OC, BC, DC, MC), add to that 3-4 emergency contact numbers incase the HR dept is more interested in hiring them than they themselves. And a bunch of other details you really wouldnt want to know about them. Arey bhaiya, what will I do with your marital status unless I m a really despo recruiter looking for matchmaking instead of hiring?!

Next section: EDUCATION.

Can be totally ignored unless there is IIT or IIM mentioned which is totally ruled out since I believe students of these institutes just have to utter II.... and the companies will drag them like a new wed couple looking to make hay while the sun shines.

Also, Education will have some ignorable percentiles right from scores in Moral science subject in kindergarten to that second rank (missed 90% by just 1 mark and almost ran away from home) in 10th Standard.

ADDITIONAL QUALIFICATIONS: There's hardly anything additional here but what the hell? The CV should look like it just got a shot of botox in the wrinkles.

A few examples:

- Sound knowledge in Microsoft word, Powerpoint (made ppts in school for the "eradicate dustbins" movement) or a little more posh sounding SQL, Visual Basic, most of the projects of which were copied from the topper of the class. 

- Certicate course in paper boat making. (Hands on experience in the potholes of hyderabad in the month of July-August)

- An Inter disciplinary course in Animal Psychology. (Learnt that at any point of time, monkeys have less itching in their armpits to know about other's lives than humans.)

AWARDS AND RECOGNITION:

- First prize in Atif Aslam Talent Hunt 2009 - Inter class fest (Sang "Dooooon-rie sahi jaye na" and got laid for the first time)

- Second prize in debate - Topic- "Should we be denied the permission to pee during classes?"

- First prize in running-in-my-fallen-pants-which-served-as-a-bora competition.
- First prize in Group Song competition - (Me along with 20 other besuras rendered a soulful "I love my India". Cheif guest was reportedly constipated during the performance, atleast that's what he looked like in the photo taken of the event)
- First prize in Skit competition - Played the sari of Draupadi in a skit which was a spoof on Mahabharata (Bloody, other house people took away the Ramayana idea)

STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:

This is my favourite part of a fresher's resume mostly because I can close my eyes and say what will be under this section. Infact I vividly remember from college that someone actually approached someone asking, "arey strengths main kya likhna re? Gud cmmnications sklls likhun kya?" I hope the recruiter didnt faint after reading that resume which was a nothing short of a long sms.

Also, as a recruiter, you can never ever trust "Good communications skills" written in resumes unless you happen to call these people. Most often than not, they are the ones who'll end up saying things like "Sir! Do you have a minute so I could encounter you with my questions?" in a client call. And it will be a real life case of Ab Tak chappan.

Weaknesses usually consist of the word "Workaholic"( because google told me it can become a strength and weakness at the same time). Lets face it, a lot of us who are linguistically challenged, at various points of time have surrendered and folded knees in front of google while making our CVs.

Also, after a little bit of experience in the corporate world, trust me, being too much of a workaholic will only make you weak and alcoholic.

Hobbies and Interests:

Very interesting hobbies I have found in this section. The list of interests and what they really mean:

- Watching TV (Record breaking 8 hours of watching the repeat telecast of "Woh mere pati ki chudail hai")
- Reading Books (ONLY Chetan Bhagat. He is god. And his english can be understood)
- Listening to Music (Recruit me and check out my spiritual, peace inducing ringtones)
- Hanging out with friends (During the week, Ill keep my team mates hanging)
- Surfing the net (Ill readily pass on the Namita videos to keep the team spirit going at bad times)

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PS: Just a bunch of observations ;) No offence to South Indian friends either. I love your long names ;)

The Hen and the egg - II

She was throwing up near the village well incessantly. The first rush of motherhood overpowered her. It was divine, calming and terrifying at the same time. The wagging tongues knew no stopping. "You saw the way her face is rounding? It HAS to be a boy", they concluded with a short round round of giggle. Her foresight was getting stronger along with fear and apprehension. Life gave her just one option. Prayer.

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She carefully stepped into the thorny bushes and glanced at the high cemented wall. Soon she sprang into life when the bell was gone. A herd rushed out running, some walking at their fastest best with bags heavier than themselves yet smiling brightly. Their smiles rubbed off onto her. She remembered her father's words. "No rain, No school". She raised her head to the clear blue sky with something she had in abundance. Hope.

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Their eyes grew wide and reddened with the rising flame of the torch. "How far could she have gone? She thinks she can fool these eyes with her naive tactics? That heap of filth has no idea what she is getting into (mild laugh)" said one of them with a characteristic deep masculine voice. They furiously marched ahead.

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By this time mortal fear gripped her very tight. She decided to ignore the thump of her heartbeat. She could neither pant nor breathe. This was by far the biggest test of her physical limits. Her eyes roved and landed onto a structure that seemed something like a wall. She knew she HAD to pull this off, for the life inside her and for herself.

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The faint images of garishly dressed women along with half clothed men was making her dizzy. "Where are those sky high buildings? Those long never ending roads they always talked about?" she thought to herself. For once she was failing to cross the blurred lines between right and wrong. Confused, she decided to take a step further without having the least idea how deciding that one step could be. She gave into her dream of breaking the barriers.

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"Do you REALISE what you have done?" exclaimed the head after planting a thunderous slap on his cheeks. "You let that filthy little woman blow dust in your eyes? Do you realise that?" An eerie silence followed. "Its ruined. It is completely ruined" he finished collapsing on a stone seat. The heads hung low and none dared to look him in the eye.

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She quickly cleared the heap of dried leaves and pebbels and sat facing a place that her father always referred to as the "resting place of your mother". Memories of a disturbed childhood and confused youth played in the mental reel one by one making her sullen and reflective. She wept like there was no tomorrow while stretching  her arms into the air and deeply remembering the soul resting below the inanimated stones. She silently promised to herself, "Ill give my child the best of all worlds".

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PS: Sushmita Banda, this is for you. I dont know if I have done justice to your request but Ill let you decide that. Also dedicated to my mother.

PS2: If this doesn't make sense to you, read the previous post first.

The Hen and the egg

She heaved a sigh of relief when her bottom fell heavy on the ground. Soon tears covered her face like blood oozing out of a wound. She sat distraught and relieved across a kaccha wall of freshly layed bricks. The reflexes forced her palm onto her swollen belly and she sat there praying while trying her best to silence the rhythym of her breath and the pounding heart...

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She ripped through the grass fields with her little palms trying to be out of sight for the old grandmother whose jug she had broken. The old woman continuously cursed and mumbled unintelligibly. "Girls are a pain, I told him but who gives value to the words of this old thing? Losing my sanity am I? This little bitch had made life hell" she finished while looking for another jug in the dust coated shelves.

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She rested under the wall for several hours and woke up only when the early morning rays brushed her pale face. She rubbed her eyes and tried to rise at one go and a flinching pain passed her belly and upper high. Her scream echoed in the nearby fields. She somehow gathered herself and decided to walk. The destination was not as close as she thought..

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She wept after being beaten up mercilessly for the nuisance she caused. "A well deserved punishment" as per the granny, followed by another round of slaps that began in full swing . A robust man barged into the house. "Is this what you old people love doing? For god's sake, look at her?! Arent you woman yourself?" The old woman shrugged, slowly crossed the threshold and disappeared into the curtains.

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She fell on the stairs resting unconscious not being able to bear the pain and exhaustion any longer. Her legs gave up at the very sight of destination being SO close. Spotted her was a man is his late fifties. He stared at her non-plussed, held her by the arms, tapped on her cheeks thinking it was one of those rag pickers waiting to earn some morning bread. The lines on his forehead burrowed deeper when he stared at her swollen belly. This was definitely not the usual..

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The women whispered in their low tones to the others witnessing this miraculous spectacle. They stood aghast not knowing what end this would see. The old man held a newborn in his hand, covered in vermillion, crying and reaching out to her lifeless birth giver.

How Green is the grass?

Billo Rani turned back to the mirror and flinched as she stared at her love handles. She found it strange how such disgusting things can be called such a seductive name. The only people who liked her love handles were kids, who mistook them for monkey climbing and hung on to them when they missed parks. As she marched across the street, her eyes sat on Chammak challo who tossed her hair while whispering into her Nokia x6 and occasionally flashing her artisan crafted 32. Billo noticed her body, the way the purple dress looked on her and her as-smooth-as-veet-promises kinda hair. Billo's heart sank.

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Chammak challo zara dheere chalo is what the gully boys often sang to her on her way to office every morning. Chammak nervously tried to walk faster pretending not to hear but she sure knew it was not a few days affair(unlike her previous one). She considered asking her father to buy a chartered plane to drop her college, possibly anything to avoid the song which sounded tailor made by Altaf Raja in support of the noble cause of eve teasing. She was disgusted (by the song and the boys' pimples) and often confided and sometimes broke down to her Parryware basin but she was happy facing the pseudo-transgenders who took away all her cash with just one clap rather than the gully boys practising for Indian Idol auditions every morning.

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Moral: Shit happens to everyone.

10 sincere pieces of advice to Indian Television

1. Sati Savitri Aunty: Dear Aunty, I know your undying love for pancake, whorish red lipstick and the 120 Kg Swarosky crystal studded nine yards but please buy a pair of pyjamas and wear them when you go to sleep.

2.Facing the mother in law's wrath: Oh please! Who listens to all the "Kulta kamini main tera khoon pee jaungi" crap from the Mom in law all the time?! Get a life woman! Go take Kravmaga classes and beat the crap out of her. And who asked you to marry the son of a bitch in the first place?

3. Show some happiness: Why is there a need to have a serpentine Vamp (Background music included) always ready to kiss the protagonists with her diabolical fangs? Give her a break from all the ostentatious make up and send her to a rehab. We like happy families.

4. Rebirths: Raaz pichle janam ka was the only show which could pull off the concept of hypnotising non-celebrities and making us buy their bullshity past life stories but Savitri Aunty, why cant your husband stop rebirthing? Plastic surgeries are not for the middle class, just for you to know.

5. Idol worship: a) Why do you need wannabes who want to show more skin than Payal Rohatgi?
b) Why should contestants dance and stare into each other to display "chemistry" while singing duets?
c) Why should people vote for these strangers? Well, at least, the voting rate is high somewhere.

6. 'Spit'villa: We neither like muscular, angutha chaap dorks nor the desi imitations of blond bimbos mixed with a variety of colorful expletives.
Honestly, Transgender beauty pageants would make a better reality than that.

7. We-will-give-you-every-shitty-detail news channels: We dont want to know the color of Sania Mirza's nail paint when she was getting married or an interview with the barber who gave Shoaib a clean shaven look or the number of dieticians his ex-wife visited or the people who tried to grope "Sania Bhabhi" in Pakistan. I thought only NDTV imagine had taken the theka to arrange Swayamwars.

8. Talking of Swayamwars, I had a series of nightmares after accidently watching the coy, sugar coated Rakhi Sawant gyrating to Tujhme rab dikhta hai. Rahul Mahajan's laughter was equally
torturous.

9. The Great Indian Comedies: I shudder each time I hear those sudden fake bouts of laughter for jokes which deserve nothing more than a straight face. And the next time I see this certain person doing mimicry, Ill go into Coma.

10. Celebrity Dance shows: Saroj Khan's seeti or her beautifully accented Engliss doesnt make the TRP-o-meter rise anymore. And tell me what's worser than watching cricketers like Baichung Bhutia doing cha cha cha? Probably Mir ranjan Negi doing the same. Oh wait! Baichung plays football.

One night @ a Bengali gathering

A strong whiff of deep fried fish, echoes of high pitched boisterous laughter and unlimited variety of food.. Welcome to a Bengali gathering.

Needless to mention Bengalis love their food. Breaking all barriers of calorie counts they HAVE to have their fish, Beguni (Deep fried Brinjals coated with a mixture of chickpea flour) for starters which will be served thrice, each time giving you that you-eat-like-a-bird look. And your stomach will be so full of them , you would want to kill yourself before the main course arrives.

Apart from the food there are also small sub groups formed in the gathering. On set of aunties will be hovering around the kitchen irrespective of whether they are needed there, sharing tips of improving the already known dishes (Aunty1:"Put this along with that and you see how the kids love it. I always do that" Aunty2: "Accchhhaaaaa??") Some busily indulging in gossip of who wore the worst sari in the last gathering or who spoke something highly offensive or some latest gold earring someone bought followed by all ladies examining the piece of jewellery like a molecular biology scientist and raving like they just saw one of the rarest pieces of jewellery in their entire life.
The men will be either discussing politics or cricket and if a match is on then they become visibly oblivious to their surroundings. Their food intake is directly proportional to the no. of wickets fallen in the last overs. And no matter who is talking to them their eyes will be glued to the TV screen like they originated from there and the collective scream of joy at a fallen wicket will shake the whole apartment.

Group number 3 will be of the youngsters who will catch up while giving an occasional glance at their phones for new text messages. Topics of discussion will range from how boring family functions can be to discussing universal mommy dialogues (and hi5-ing at them) to how difficult it is for us, Bengalis, to lose weight no matter how hard we try and all this while digging into copious amounts of high calorie snacks.

And finally arrives the main course. Not one, not two, there will be at least 5 side dishes and every aunty expecting you to eat "her curry" properly or else you will be blamed of how less your appetite is or the usage of the classic line "tum bacche log nahi khaoge toh kaun khaega?".

Just when you thought it is over, wait for it....there will be juicy Rajbhog or chamcham waiting in line to seduce your eyes (your stomach becomes numb at this point) and you will be gladly offered two if you have the reputation of loving sweets (I m a perfect example)

The party spirit will go on till the hosts drop all the guests to their car with another round of bosterious laughter and never ending bye byes and "Aabar ashbe" (Please come again) and all your weight loss plans will be disposed in deepest of deep ditches.

And a random post happens..

Was tagged in Vamsi's blog for this post. So, random questions, here I come..

1. What is your current obsession?
A. Nose ring. I want one badly.

2. What are you wearing today?
A. A pair of my favourite (and rugged) black jeans with a kurti gifted by my best friend.

3. What's for dinner today?
A. Dont make me hungry now.

4. What's the last thing you bought?
A. Chicken Tikka frankie.

5. What are you listening to right now?
A. Uff teri ada- Karthik Calling Karthik

6. What do you think about the person who tagged you?
A. He gave me a reason to update. :D His blog is nice and so is his blog skin.

7. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
A. In Paris, overlooking the Eiffel Tower *dreams*

8. What are your must-have pieces for summer?
A. A/c, Nimbu paani, Nariyal paani and gaagils :D

9. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
A. Ponidcherry. Ill spend an hour walking around a beach and get back.

10. Which language do you want to learn?
A. Reading and writing Bengali

11. What’s your favourite quote?
A. Right now I can remember: "To err is human but to forgive is against company policies"

12. Who do you want to meet right now?
A: Apurva Muralidhar.

13. What is your favourite color?
A: BLACK. It is seductive, powerful and enchanting.

14. Give us three styling tips that work for you.
A: -If you like it, wear it
-Dont be too matchy matchy all the time
-If your hair is good, everything else is good

15. What is your dream job?
A: A lecturer of french who also sings and writes books.

16. Which is your favourite magazine?
A: Femina. Humour, language, information and advice, Femina offers it all.

17. If you had $100 dollars with you right now, what would you spend it on?
A: Clothes and cuisine.

18. What do you consider a fashion faux pas?
A: Pancake of makeup, wearing shades everywhere and everytime (seriously dude! get a life!)

19. Who according to you is the most overrated style icon?
A: Ill second Vamsi on Srgay.

20. What kind of haircut do you prefer?
A: Anything short and sleek. Fringes, I love.

21. What are you going to do after this?
A: No prizes for guessing... HOG.

22. What are your favourite movies?
A: I m too lazy to type them all down.

23. What inspires you?
A: Soul stirring, heart warming music.

24. What do your friends call you most commonly?
A: Slothy, laccho, Trish, Moti.... (Ok isnt that enough to make fun of me already?)

25. Would you prefer coffee or tea?
A: Ze former.

26. What do you do when you are low or terribly depressed?
A: wait till I m fine.

27. What makes you go wild?
A: Depends on which wild is being talked about :P

28. Which other blogs do you love visiting?
A: My friends' blogs, random blogs and the one I follow.

29. Favourite dessert?
A: Heehaw. I'd like to think I was an ant in the previous birth :D

30. How many tabs are turned on in your browser right now?
A: Twitter, Facebook, zeetalk and Blogger ofcourse.

31. Favourite Season?
A: Autumn (which we hardly have in India) and Winter (which we hardly have in Hyderabad)

32. If I come to your house what would u cook for me?
A: Depends on what you bring for me.

33. What is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?
A: Play the "which finger is this?" game with them and no matter which finger they choose, always show the middle one.

34. What are you afraid of the most?
A: Losing my loved ones.

35. When you looked at the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
A: "Not bad"

36. What instantly brings a smile on your face?
A: A sumptuous meal.

37. A word that you say a lot?
A: "Aeey Liiiiiiite"

38. When was the last time you did something nice?
A: I took mother by surprise by gifting her a collage of her best pictures on her birthday.

39.What would you do if you were made the President of India for one day?
A: Ill choose that day to be Republic or Independence day coz thats the only time of the year I see the President "doing" something.

40. Do you know who master Shifu is?
A: I havent watched Kung fu Panda :D

Mere CV ka balatkaar

Hi Trishnanta, I m Navin. I m with Google for 4+ years now. So, Trishnanta.. Did I get your name right?

Me: Yeah. Its Trishnanta (Emphasizing on the first N. Something told me not to address him as "Sir"

I m ready with the answer if you want to know how I got the name, what it means, etc.

Mental Profile of Navin: 1. You are not young

2. You are definitely not hot.

3. Your french beard is intimidating.

4. You look like one of those proper corporate CV rapists who disguise themselves in semi formals.

5. I dont think I can even smile during the interview forget about being funny)

Navin: Ill give you certain phrases. Please make necessary grammatical changes wherever necessary.

(You are hating my essay arent you? I wrote two in 45 minutes and I m sure there will be more errors than strands of hair on my head )

Me: Sure.

Dictation continues for 5 minutes and I hated every sentence structure. I couldnt believe I wrote SO horribly and still passed that round. After correction and his 2 minutes of verification the drama was about to unfold. My one month of mental preparation, expectations from myself, gathering the "tips", it was time for the first job interview of my life to begin. I felt blank and just decided to maintain eye contact. (It might have come across as a desperate stare)

Navin: In this session or let me call it a conversation,

(You make it sound like a date. But the word "conversation" comforts me.)

I think Ill be able to understand what kind of skills you possess.

(Yes. You will understand in 20 minutes what I couldnt understand for 21 years of my life.)

Me: *gives a faint half smile* Yeah sure.

Navin: Ok. If we conduct a grammar teaching session as a part of your job training and teach you things completely different from what you have been learning for good 15 years of your life, how comfortable would you be?

(Is that a question? For a second I thought you'd just talk and ill do the eye contact part.)

How comfortable would you be?

(Trish? Answer? It IS a question.)

Me: Yeah I think I will definitely be comfortable. If the job profile demands such kind of training I think ill undo what I have learnt and learn the new things taught to me. I m not saying it will be easy but I think Ill be able to do it.

(WTF happened to "tell me about yourself?"and "Give me a quick run through your resumé"?? NO. This was not how it was supposed to start.)

Navin: Ok your CV tells me you organized events and were a part of press and publicity for the fest "Constellation". can you tell me how you went about it?

Me: (without taking a moment) *Gives details about the science club and the fest*

(Back ground thoughts while speaking:

Wtf is he writing in his book? Is he even listening? Is he noting down all that I m saying? He is raping my mind. YES, these recruitment people get paid for having sex with people's minds. I m SO fucked.)

Navin: Ok. Any situation where you had to take an unpopular decision?

(Situational question. Screw you. Unpopular decision? When did I ever take any? FUCK. Why are you doing this Navin? why? Tell something now, Trish)

Me: (At this point I introduce vidyouth)

Navin: Oh yeah I can see in your CV- I m sorry I have to keep getting back to it- So what do you do for vidyouth?

Me: (Sigh. Something I rehearsed , atleast)

Navin: I see you have done some good work in Cell biology. Ofcourse, who doesnt know about Shanta Biotechnics?! (The only time he smiled during the interview. It felt good.) Why do you want to shift to a different field?

Me: (I fucking knew this question would come up. I KNEW.) Life science has always been a passion (I used it. I used that bloody word) I was always into life science but in due course of time I realised I also have a knack for creative writing and communication oriented things and thus this decision.

( That suicidal look on his face tells me I should shut up and fuck off. Someone help? *sobs* The naiyya of my confidence has a hole.)

Navin: Ok what do you know about the job role you have applied for?

Me: An adword representative has various responsibilities which include checking the ad content for content, quality and accuracy. He/She also deals with the google advertisers' portfolios and provides excellent customer satisfaction.

(I m only telling you what I read yesterday. You have no idea how much I have googled google for google. Whoa! just came up with that)

Two to three more situational questions and we came close to end of this "conversation".

Navin: I m done. Anything you have in mind that you want to ask?

Me: Well, what exactly are you looking for in candidates?

(It was like asking "Why was I here, again?")

Navin: Well, we are basically looking for enthusiastic people who have a keen interst and drive for their job role. (and I have none)

I cant reveal further because of confidentiality issues but in the broader sense these are the qualities. Does that answer your question?

Me: Yes. definitely.

(Leave me. I wanna go home. I m famished)

We shake hands and I come out of the room. Good or bad, it was over.

PS: I succesfully screwed and got screwed in my first job interview. Oh wait! Cant call it a rape anymore, can I?