Month: October 2016

It Goes On

They hadn’t seen each other in years.

Life had taken a sharp turn from college into reality. They were both salaried employees at different multinational corporations. Their income and expenses tallied on most months, while payday loans saved some days. They’d wake every day and make mental to-dos with the morning coffee. They turned on autopilot to greet colleagues with a “good morning” a “hi there” and a “nice seeing you” — without even seeing who they’re saying it to. Headphones had become the lover that never disappointed. Caffeine was the impetus as the day waned. Free dinner at work with colleagues compensated the lack of company. Home had become an empty room with a vacant chair and a mug with morning’s coffee dregs. They took Facebook to bed and woke up next to a harmless-looking space grey metal block.

And then came the acquisition.

Life took a sharp turn from reality into a harsher reality. They had become salaried employees at the same multinational corporation. Their income and expenses tallied on most months, while payday loans saved some days. They’d wake every day and make mental to-dos with the morning coffee. They turned on autopilot to greet colleagues with a “good morning” a “hi there” and a “nice seeing you” — without even seeing who they’re saying it to. Headphones had become the lover that never disappointed. Caffeine was the impetus as the day waned. Free dinner at work with colleagues compensated the lack of company. Home had become an empty room with a vacant chair and a mug with morning’s coffee dregs. They took Facebook to bed and woke up next to a harmless-looking space grey metal block.

But they’d sometimes smile at each other over the vending machine. They weren’t in love anymore, just in denial.

What’s the Point of a Wedding?

I was at work trying to write a blog convincing business owners to buy our software. And as I sat staring at my blank screen, my mobile screen lit up. It was a message from my classmate. I picked my phone amazed because she hadn’t spoken to me since our reunion at school two years ago. I opened the message and there it was, in shiny font and bold letters, an invitation to her wedding the next day. Come to think of it, almost all of my classmates are either married or engaged to be married. Some have kids, even. It seemed like I am the only one writing about marriage and not, in fact, marrying.

It’s not as if weddings are easy. Apart from having to find the perfect match for your life, weddings are also weird in a way. In the way that they’re the epitome at displaying wealth. And I was lucky (or not) enough to see a few weddings myself.

I’ve sat listening to grooms ramble about the all-important wedding outfit. The bride’s saree had cost him five months’ worth of salary. Plus five additional sarees that the bride should wear on the same day — one for each wedding ritual. I listen because the funniest part comes at the end of that story: the bride wouldn’t wear those sarees ever again — they’re too heavy and uncomfortable for everyday use.

Then come the miscellaneous expenses like makeup and hairstyle, hall and stage decoration, food and lodging for the guests, train or air tickets to and from the wedding location, snacks during the commute, tea, coffee — with Boost or Bournvita for those who drink neither. And the booze. By the end of that list, the couple would have lost two years of their savings preparing for one day of supposed-celebration.

And if that wouldn’t turn them off, the in-laws have their own demands — not actual demands, but more of obvious stuff the couple would need to move into their new home. Some call these “gifts” while some say dowry. “Gifts” include furniture, jewellery and investments, air conditioner and washing machine, and the essentials like carpets, curtains, and pillow cases.

And then comes the big day, the wedding day. The bride and groom wake up from yet another night of beauty sleeplessness to pressure. While the heater gets ready, a final checklist would come to light.

Shopping-done. Extra gold coins, done. A variety of lip-smacking food, done. And after a shower is the “getting dressed for the wedding” part. That’s when they’ll realise: No matter how much they pressed on the buttons on the air conditioner’s remote, they’re still burning up from the heat and beads of condensation sliding from their temples.

A tiny makeup glitch, safety pins that have gone a wandering, borrowed bangles that shrunk overnight, anything could make them cry. And with five pounds of heirloom jewellery, two and a half pounds of designer saree, and the curious case of the missing bobby pins—tensions are high. And when they think it couldn’t get any worse, the bride’s father would walk up to the groom and voice his displeasure about the drunken best man.

If they’d thought weddings are fun and full of life, they’d soon wish to just get it over with.

That’s the problem with a big fat wedding; on the day of it, the bride and groom are no longer love birds. They’re not the passionate pair, but just tired folks who want to sleep.
Weddings are meant to help them start their life anew. It’s a day to celebrate two souls that agree to sacrifice their tastes and the preferences for the greater good. Marriage is a promise they make to themselves to approach one person’s problem as it’s the other’s and drive through it as one.

As for weddings, they’re just a day to deck up in jewellery and spend the day gossiping. There’s no point in them and I’d rather not go to such a wedding, even though I got my invitation on WhatsApp the previous day.

Let’s Talk About the Starving Kids

When I was still young, I hated my vegetables. I’d eat my treats and leave the rest for the trash. Beans involved too much effort to pop into my mouth and cabbage was too rubbery to chew. My mother wouldn’t notice the oddity, though, and neither did my father. They just told me I complained too much and it was wrong not to eat the gnarled vegetables.
I was avoiding the minerals and nutrients that cookies lacked, my mother said. And no matter how much I argued that mashed potatoes were good enough for me, my parents never considered me serious.

But they did more than doubt me. They gave me a reason to finish my whole meal, unattractive though it was. I’m lucky, they said, to have a plate groaning with spinach while poor kids halfway across the world didn’t get a proper meal a day. A double-hazelnut and chocolate chip cookie is a luxury they can’t afford. And therefore it only made sense that I ate all the vitamin-rich foods I got.

How that helps starving kids remains a mystery, but I was much too young to think about the nuances of logic.

It messed with my head, though. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand poverty and global hunger. I was eight and my mother said, “Don’t waste food, there are plenty of people starving.” And being eight and eager to remain the apple of my mother’s eye, I ate the final slice of apple even when I didn’t want it.

I was dining with my friends last night and knew I had eaten enough. But there was some pasta left over, so I grabbed a fork. I can’t help it that I can’t waste food. Because even though I’m twenty-two, I don’t feel satiated until I’d wiped my plate clean.

While at another table sat a kid with tears in her eyes. Her mother coaxed her to finish her meal. And the father threw a stern look at his daughter. “You should be thankful you have food on your plate.” He growled cutting through his wife’s gentle reproaches. “Now eat!” And she eats.

As I sat there, I saw a girl who had already eaten her share, eat the rest too. Just because somewhere someone doesn’t have enough to eat, another young girl gave into the pressure without even realising it could make her sick.

Coffee and a Story

coffe-and-story

If we were having coffee right now, I’d tell you a story.
A story of my life about someone I met.
I met someone years ago, and she was like me.
Like me in the sense that she loved her coffee.
Her coffee was always black, and her heart otherwise.
Otherwise, we had nothing much common between us.
Between us, though, we throve in our friendship.
Our friendship lasted longer than any coffee
Any coffee could get us talking about any and everything.
And everything would fade away when we began a conversation.
A conversation, that would transcend borders of territory and time.
And time, though, in time, caught up with our friendship too.
Friendship, too, I realised, would grow cold if left alone.
Left alone coffee would wither, and so did our relationship.
Our relationship that started from a coffee, ended the same way.
Same way we went, but we no longer looked at the same horizons.

Corporate Learning

Hello, boss? I was wondering… do you have a minute, please?

Oh, I could pick your brain anytime? That’s wonderful. Thanks. Um, it’s just that I saw your email, and I didn’t understand something in it. Something about KT?

Er…no, boss. I’ve haven’t heard of that acronym in college. Not in my internships either. I’m sorry I didn’t know it was that important.

Yes, you’re right. I should’ve learnt it in college. That’s why I spent my college life stuck with teachers who wouldn’t even help me work out a project — to learn terms I could use at work four years later.

Yes, my teachers should’ve taught me what KT is. Oh, yes you’re right. It’s my fault that I didn’t care to ask.

I should’ve been more aggressive, yes. And progressive, yes. I’m sorry I’m a loser. I didn’t expect to deal with industry terms three days into my first job. And yes, a good mentor shouldn’t spoon feed me. They should let me learn stuff on my own. My bad. I should know what KT is. Thanks for helping me see that.

Yes, I will Google it. Thanks, boss. You’re the best advisor.

Kinesiology Tape… Kate Bush… Kensington Temple… This can’t be right.

Uh er, Jennifer? Can you help me? My boss sent me an email with a phrase: KT. You know what that means? Oh, I’m sorry, I had forgotten you’re new here too. Have you ever heard of this KT though before? No? Well, that’s ok. Thanks anyway.

Hello again, boss. I tried googling, like you suggested, but couldn’t find anything that seemed to fit.

Yes, yes, I’m a dumbass. I’m stupid because I can’t find something on the web, something I should’ve known coming right from college into corporate. I wonder, could you help me this once and tell me what it is? I swear I won’t come to you for help again.

Wait, what? You’re cancelling our session? We had a session? Our KT session? But I’m trying to figure out what that means!

Oh.

Yes, boss. Now that you mention it, it’s obvious. You’re right, it’s even on Wikipedia — at the bottom, though.

I am stupid not to know Knowledge Transfer. Thanks for teaching me that, boss.