Queue-ki naaki

Not so long ago I was shipped to Dubai. And I have lugged this blog along in my large brown bag. And here I open it first thing at the Carrefour super duper hyper store. Thanks to the forever due FDI in retail we havn’t yet discovered the Ikea meatballs (or was it horse-meatballs?) and the serpentine queues in India.  Or for the latter, have we?

 At the Mumbai local ticket counters, at the immigration department at airports, at the passport office, at the college admission counters, at the ATM, at the bus stop, at the water tap and also at Mcdonalds? Delhi ofcourse, is not included in this. There, you just mob around for everything, call out names,  and rape someone if you can.

 Anyway, back to queues (did you know it is spelt like this?), if you have ever been to one, chances are you agree that they are highly frustrating!

These forever 21 queues (21 is the number of people ahead of you) make me hate mankind (and womankind) and hope I was in a country, where they sell guns with 21 bullets in supermarkets, so I could shoot the queue ahead of me and suffocate the billing executive under the 21 corpses.

 Even in a store with 21 queues, it always seems that you are stuck in the slowest one. Its either the slow billing executive who can’t count money right, or doesn’t have keys to the teller, or it could be one of those annoying customers ahead of you who want to change their mind about items just after they are scanned, or those who want to reach out to pick chewing gum 7 feet away from the counter after all their items have been scanned, or better still, there are stealers who stuff a bag inside a bigger bag, thinking it won’t be noticed and they could have it for free. Whatever the reason, the ice-cream in your cart will sure melt before you reach the billing counter.

 Worse is when you are standing at the express counter and a hot looking girl walks to the guy at 7 and points to her buns. This guy is the typical “chomu” who is too happy that a girl spoke to him and she let him stare at her buns. Even though they were edible ones. Apparently she had only one item to scan to she can jump the queue. And the chomu lets her. And how many items did he have? A pair of slippers. While, I at number 21, can fume and do nothing else.

 Take my suggestion, if you want to remain sane, don’t ever go to a supermarket on a weekend if you have less than 20 items to buy. Its not worth the heart-ache or the back.

 PS: Have you heard that song "Isshq ki naaki"...?What is "naaki" anyway?

Lust at first sight

She crossed her legs as she stared at her own reflection on the glass panel at the metro platform. Adjusting her hair she craned her neck to see the metro arriving. The train arrived, and she stepped in. "Al abwabu tuglaq", "the doors are closing". And just then, their eyes met.

His steel grey eyes looked like made from the same glass she was staring at a while ago. A few strands of hair strayed on his forehead from his perfectly gelled mohawk. His lean tall structure stood firm and unperturbed by the moving train. He looked at her straight in the eye, but he wasn't looking. He was thinking.

After a brief pause and a soulful glance, that seemed to melt her in her shoes, he went back to reading on his tablet. Not realizing what he was inflicting upon her. He looked deeply involved, carried away and in control at the same time. His laptop bag snuggled between his legs on the floor.

Despite the dark business suit that covered his frame, she couldn't stop admiring the sculpture it camflagued.  She stood next to him. Close enough to smell the Givenchy perfume he was wearing. She noticed the intricate network of veins on the back of his hand that moved as he swiped screens. She adjusted her dress, and her hair and tried to look out the window. But his presence was just too distracting for her.

Lust at first sight. She thought smiling at herself. And put on her wayfarers.

"Al mahakkal kadima hiya Abrajul Emarat"

Talking Stomach

Some people like to talk a lot. Well, I am not one of them. But my stomach makes up for it. It has the guts (literally!) to break into the awkward silence of any room, be it an office, a funeral or a classroom. Ok, this might just be turning into a very gross subject for some of you readers, but well, there is an elephant in the room I am trying to address. And unfortunately that elephant is in my stomach.

Reading from health and wellness posts online, I conclude that many of you must have experienced some sort of growling in your stomach when it raises an alarm that your body needs food. Sometimes these sounds a more like murmurs, sometimes little louder so you can hear it.. or maybe your loved one can hear it, if sitting very close. But mine are more like roars from Jurassic Park. Even the water in the glass begins to shake. And now I am exaggerating. But they are loud enough so that everyone in my modest office of 4 can hear them. Although, I try to type really fast and create camouflaging sounds, I am sure it manages to break through the walls of my stomach and into the ears of those who may or may not understand where that sound is coming from. I eat my words and swallow them with water, but that doesn’t help either. The only thing that helps is sneaking out, snacking in, or snickers.

You know, I suspect that there is some sort of rhythm or secret message hidden in it. It happens at the same time everyday - between 10:30am and 11:30am. It growls, and whines and mews and most definitely says something. Maybe it is saying that my hair is looking very good today. Or maybe that I am a great driver. Maybe it is just blabbering like little babies and expects me to give company.  I don’t know. Maybe it is a song growing in my stomach. They say that good music comes from inside. Hmm. I’ll know someday.

And I ate an elephant for dinner last night. Stomach that!

Dare to lead - Winning Strategies for Women

“I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend
'Cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again 

Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to
I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman”

                                     --Helen Reddy and Ray Burton

If you are a woman reading this, I’ll ask you to go and hear the song. It’s beautiful, strong, feminine and in your shoes! If you aren’t, you should hear it anyway, to realize what I am talking about.

Being a woman and being out there is an achievement, so much so, that it is worthy of ballads. Because being a woman with a career means breaking the norm and keeping it at the same time!. On one hand you break the convention of spending your childhood and youth not in becoming Lizy of Pride & Prejudice but becoming Mr Darcy with a better body and prettier shoes. On the other hand, you don’t want to give up the pleasure of cooking for your husband, helping your kids with their homework and booking full day spas. That’s two roles in one. Only a woman can manage that kind of multitasking!

But just like any achievement worthy of praise, it is not easy being that power puff girl. What keeps these women ticking and what makes them win? I asked few women around me (and put in my own two cents).

The top answer is surprising for the uninitiated. Family. Women are probably more emotional and sensitive than their males counterparts and hence it is important for them to have the support of a family around them. A great husband, loving kids, parents. Women lay lot of emphasis on having things sorted back at home. Having a supportive family helps them focus guiltlessly on work and accomplish more in their careers.

Gossip and women go hand in hand. But it seems that when it comes workplace, women want to stay away from it. Excluding the discussions around whether your boss is in a foul mood because he had a fight with his wife, women are generally distant from work related gossip. More specifically, workplace politics. Most women are interested in quickly finishing what is assigned to them and saving manipulation for their friend circles.

The glass ceiling. Who hasn’t heard of that. But the trick is in believing it does not exist. Sometimes, women seem to presume that their bosses will prefer their male counterparts over them for higher responsibilities, get demotivated, and don’t perform anyway. Those who don’t get into this trap, easily cross the holy grail in an unbiased work environment.

That brings me to the last factor, your boss. This is irrespective of gender. But women, as far as I know, respond very well to mentorship and positive reinforcement. The more trust & responsibility, you put in them, the more you reap. Most women who have an ascending career graph, agree that it woudn’t have been possible without a supportive boss and open work environment.

I am sure there are many more experiences and learnings to share. I am woman still learning.  

The Portfolio Life

I came to office early today. To work. Alas, things don’t always happen the way we plan. So here I am writing this post  and checking jobs on naukri before others walk in and start applying for the same jobs.

In this post I am going to steal the idea of one management thinker and repackage it and sell it back to you. Heard about Charles Handy? .. Go wiki on him and his theories. And you can also google and flipkart him. But I am going to copy him.

So he talks about this theory of Portfolio life. Imagine if you treated the days of your life as coins in your kitty and you needed to spend them on a basket of goodies. Essentially building  a portfolio of things you would like to do each day instead of doing the same thing everything day. Imagine everyone following this theory in their lives.. Oh what fun will it be! And full of funny too!... Let me tell you how..

So imagine our good old Ramu kaka suddenly switches to portfolio life. He wants to be five different things on 5 working days of the week (yes.. atleast in the perfect future, everyone works only 5 days!). So on Monday he is ramu kaka himself when he brings you your morning tea and spills it on your brand new arrow shirt you were planning to impress your lady boss with. Yes ofcourse, not a cool start of the week! Ramu kaka gets some piece of your spotless mind.

On Tuesday, he is Ramesh Pandey, the traffic hawaldar who places himself at the same traffic light that you decide to jump. His revenge shall drill a hole in your shirt!

On Wednesday, tables turn and he is the night guard for your building. Your dog Edward makes sure he doesn’t sleep a wink.

By Thursday, you can imagine how annoyed Rammaiya, the waiter the at idli dosa eatery is. So when you order you favourite sambhar, he doesn’t forget to spit in it. And to top it up, on Friday he skips his turn at the post-office and checks in as the dhobi who will burn your Arrow shirt!

Thankgod the future is far away!

Getting Back At It!

Sorry, I have been away for a while.. was busy with finishing my book. Check out your nearest bookstore for any leftover copies..

The book is called "Who moved my cheese".. yeah.. thats an old one.. I am a slow reader ;).

Anyway.. just posted something. And hopefully will be regular since I spend a lot of time thinking these days.. in the auto-rickshaw.. benefits of staying away from work. Yeah.. we all know how much fun that is.  

Speech Head Disconnect

I hope you understand what I mean. Ok, let me explain.

As an average office goer (which I beg to differ by the way.. I think I am exemplary!)..I am expected to dedicate a certain amount of my office time in engaging in extra-official activities, which consists of not only rolling back lengths of toilet paper that I pulled by mistake, but also other critical tasks such as reading my company moto on the opposite wall 57 times, sending personal couriers from office dispatch desk, healthy snacking (read chana), unhealthy snacking (read everything else) and most importantly collating & dispersing career-critical information on colleagues, often termed as water cooler gossip.

Now, on one such information exchange session (which ironically never happens at the water cooler since it is way too crowded), we were discussing our half yearly numbers.

Fellow gossiper: It seems they are intentionally pulling down the numbers to show bad results in this quarter.

Me gossiper: Or their tea is not happy…umm.. clients!.. I mean clients are not happy!

On another occasion, at my desk, after offering chana to the guy next to me.. “Hey.. I’ll keep it in the Dubai, you have it when you want .. Dubai??!.. haha… I mean drawer..in the drawer.. haha..im so lost!.. haha.. im sorry.. here in the drawer!

Yet another occasion, while asking for directions from my husband (yes.. I havn't updated facebok yet!) on phone,.. I say – “ I am at four bungalows. I mean seven bungalows… and took a right from mad-o-wot and then the first left.. sorry, I meant I took the left from mad-over-donuts and then the right.. I know. Sorry.. I know you don’t know where I am!.. shit… ok.. I’ll ask someone on the road!”

And then the rickshaw driver stopped and left me at that spot on my mind where what I say is not what I am thinking.

PS: Do I need therapy?